


Whiteness

by MercuryM



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Bromance, Cannibalism, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Minor Character Death, Romance, Smut, Swearing, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-21 23:37:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 62,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1568090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercuryM/pseuds/MercuryM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He set her blood on fire. He questioned her and challenged her at every step she took. But as their bodies entertwined and he granted her the whiteness she craved so much Clarke couldn't help but get addicted to him, Bellamy. And he was just as addicted to her. </p>
<p>AU of 1x07 up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rock Bottom

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing in this fandom, first time writing this pairing, and first time writing a lemon. Lots of firsts, hopefully they won't turn into lasts. Read, rewiew, enjoy. And special thanks to my lil' munchkin for going over this for any mistakes I might have made <3
> 
> **I absolutely refuse to have my story hosted on wattpad, goodreads or any other site! Stop stealing people's work!**

The storm was still going strong and a lightning illuminated her desperate face.

Everything was going wrong. Her life had turned out to be a whirlwind of bad decisions and even worse consequences. If only there was a way to go back in time. But… but there wasn't and she had to face the music as it was.

She was on freaking Earth now; the safety of the Ark was just an illusion here. No father to hide behind, no mother to pull the strings behind the scene and control the backlash of her rash decisions, no rules she could follow just outside the line. Clarke was one of the hundredth, one of the delinquents; she served a different purpose now – prove that Earth was habitable even if it the price was her life.

It only took two weeks to turn her world upside down. Her best friend was dead because of a confused little girl seeking an end to her nightmares; she had hated him for all the wrong reasons because she couldn't accept the truth that her mother betrayed her father and was responsible for his death, and when finally she found a sanctuary in Finn's arms – it proved to be just another dead end. Another brick wall that caged her in, another obstacle set on making her stumble and lose her path. Not that Clarke was sure if she had a path, let alone if she was on the right one.

If she had to be honest with herself she always had dreamed of Earth – the blue of the endless oceans, the green of the virgin mountains, the purity of the clouds, the wonders of the animal world, and the diversity of the nature. Ever since she was little and Wells would give her something to draw with, be it a pencil, chalk or simple graphite, Clarke would recreate birds and wild cats, flowers and trees, landscapes and sunrises. Her dream was to set foot on Earth, to breath the air, to lay on the leaf covered ground and to swim in the clear water, to simply escape the bleakness and the depression of the falling apart grey Ark, the monotone of the life there, the constant feeling of being still and feeling numb.

Her wish came true but she never imagined it like this – the price was unreasonably high and it made her crave the familiarity of the Ark. Then again, life in space was bound to end in four months. Death on Earth or death in space – really, there was no significant difference.

Deafening thunder interrupted her self-pitying party and shook the life pod that the group had isolated as one of the few sleeping quarters and in which she was taking cover from the storm.

Her hands were still covered in Finn's blood. Funny how looking at it now made her shake like a leaf. She wasn't particularly squeamish but thinking back on the operation she did on Finn, how she had his life in her hands, it made her nauseous. A broken laugh escaped her cracked lips and she hurried to muffle it. It proved to be useless and a minute later her whole body was shaking with hollow laughter and dry sobs.

Clarke fell to her knees. Her blood covered hands clutched her shoulders in a desperate attempt to stop the shaking of her limbs. She could feel the blood seeping through her clothes, seeping through her skin marking her forever. The voice of her mother was resonating inside her head; it was a poison eating her from the inside – the voice of the person that killed her father, the person that tore apart her happy family; that plunged her life into darkness.

' _Clarke, Clarke, Clarke…'_  it whispered inside her mind, like a broken record, as if her mother was worried, as if she cared.  _'Clarke, Clarke, Clarke…'_  it went on, and on, and on, as if her mother never killed her father. It was wrong, it was so wrong to pretend that nothing happened, that everything was the same. It wasn't, it never would be.

She had no wish to talk with her but she wasn't skilled enough to save Finn on her own. So Raven helped and they saved him. And God, Raven… the accusation was clear as day in her eyes, the subtle dislike and the 'stay away from him' attitude.

It bloody hurt – her mother's betrayal, Wells' death, Finn's concealment, Raven's hate.

' _Clarke, Clarke, Clarke…'_

"Shut up. Shut up! SHUT UP!" Clarke screamed again and again until her voice was no more and her tears stopped.

She took a deep breath and then let it whooshing out. Two tries later and she was back on her feet and out under the rain. She needed to wash away the blood. And the voice. And the guilt and the heartbreak. Everything. But even the freezing rain and the sinister thunders couldn't quell the inferno of thoughts that was her consciousness in this moment.

"Careful, princess, you'll catch a cold and then who's going to make my life difficult?" fortunately or not she was capable of recognizing that tone even in her sleep and she could see the mocking smile even without turning around. Bellamy.

The voices in her head quieted down.

Clarke pulled her defences back up and her mask was once again on when she faced him. The rain had long ago washed off her tears. She couldn't afford to appear weak in front of him.

"Can I help you?" She brushed past him and took off her shirt, she was dripping water everywhere.

"Well, you were fast to escape from your heroic deed and your admirers. Don't tell me that after all you have done until now you happen to have stage fright at right that moment?" His eyes sparkled with amusement and something else Clarke was too tired to try and comprehend.

Typical Bellamy trying to flaunt his testosterone driven thoughts and sarcasm in places no one wanted him to.

Clarke rolled her eyes and squeezed the water out of her hair. "I needed a change of clothes."

His eyes left burning trails upon her skin as they carefully assessed every inch of her body. "And a shower apparently." He nodded towards the wet shirt she just had hanged up to dry and the rest of the clothes she still had on.

"I felt like it." Her voice came out sounding too defensive to her liking. He always made her feel so vulnerable. Bellamy had the rare talent to see right through her and it scared the shit out of Clarke. She was accustomed to being the strong one; the stubborn individual that was constantly right and always knew what to do. But the Murphy situation proved that to be wrong.

Bellamy with his bullshit attitude and strong charisma, sharp wit and silver tongue, combined with the pleasant to the eyes physique and inborn leadership aura was a temptation she couldn't afford. She had no time for bad boys seeking redemption; her plate was full with problems as it was.

"Do you mind?" She motioned for him to turn around as she was ready to get rid of the rest of her wet garments.

"Oh, no, I don't mind. Not at all." He had the insolence to cross his arms in front of his chest and lean back against the wall of the pod. Looking straight into her eyes Bellamy smirked and silently urged her on to continue with her undressing.

Clarke gritted her teeth and counted to ten until the impulse to bash his head against the wall of the pod disappeared. Bellamy was dangerous to her temper. As well as to her libido, not that she was ready to confess such a thing to herself.

"Is there something you want from me?"

"I want great many things, princess. The real question is are you ready to deliver?"

Yes, head, wall. Her hand twitched.

And while imagining what sound his head would make while hitting the metal surface she didn't think what his hair would feel like. Nu-uh. Because it would be weird and totally not like her to wonder if it was as soft as it looked or not. Weird and twisted, and her mind was complicated enough without random thoughts about Bellamy's hair, thank you very much.

"You don't look that good, princess. Trouble in paradise?"

Her mask was starting to crack. Damn him for asking, for caring in his own way. The rain was drumming nature's music on the metal roof of the pod.

"If it has escaped your attention, Bellamy, we're not in paradise. And don't call me that." It came out colder than she intended it to be.

His dark eyes narrowed. "Does Spacewalker have special dibs on the nickname,  _princess_?" the amusement was gone from his voice.

She flinched at the mention of Finn and he noticed. And damn him for being so observant.

"Worried about him that much? Don't be, after all dear mommy Griffin helped you save him."

Clarke was pretty sure she had stopped breathing. The thoughts were back. And the voice. She could see the image of her father being ejected into space as if it was happening right now. The consolation of her mother that was oh so fake. Blood, Finn's blood. The hurt of seeing him with Raven. The loss of Wells. The fear of the Grounders. She was running as fast as her legs could take her but the thoughts kept catching up to her. There was nowhere to run.

"Princess?" Bellamy frowned. "Clarke?" He took few steps forward and called her name again.

She was hyperventilating. Was she going into shock?

He grabbed her left shoulder, her skin felt freezing under his fingers. "Clarke?" his other hand cradled her face and he tipped her head back. Her gaze was fixed somewhere, she wasn't really seeing him.

Bellamy applied pressure on her jaw line and repeated her name again. A moment later she blinked one, two, three times and her eyes found his. She looked so lost and scared. Just a little lonely girl, desperately seeking help but everyone was expecting from her to be strong every minute of her life and they were blind to her chaotic roaming.

Without thinking about it Bellamy angled his head and crashed their lips together. He always wanted to shut her up like this. It was cold and wet, but it was also soft and innocent.

Clarke was frozen in shock. Heat was spreading through her whole body from where Bellamy's hands were touching her skin. And his lips were a fire against hers. Her mind shut down, the thoughts disappeared. She was kissing Bellamy Blake.

She raised her hand and slapped him, hard. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Her lips were tingling pleasantly and blood was rushing in her ears.

He didn't look too happy about the slap but before she could berate him further he wove his hand in her blond hair and yanked. She yelped more in a surprise than in pain and he dove for her mouth. There was nothing gentle or innocent about their second kiss. It was hot and heavy and punishing. He bit her lower lip, soothed it with his tongue and then coaxed her tongue to dance with his.

Clarke wasn't a kissing expert but this was exquisite. She needed to breathe but she didn't want to break off the kiss either. Bellamy was kissing her like a dying man starved for oxygen. His unrestrained passion was burning her to her very core until the only thing she was aware of was his body heat against hers, his hands on her skin, and his tongue doing that wonderful thing.

They parted for air and then continued kissing, the intensity going up with every meeting of their lips. Clarke gave into her desire and ran her hands through his dark messy hair – it was softer than she had imagined it to be – and she tugged on it in warning when he bit her lip again.

His other hand traveled down her back and pushed her tank top up until his fingers touched chilled skin and then spread his palm against the small of her back, pushing their bodies closer in the process. His warmth was an addiction Clarke couldn't get enough of. Reluctantly her hands let go of Bellamy's curly locks and explored his hard chest, which proved to be just as good if not better. His lithe muscles twitched with every touch and when finally she laid her hands on his hot skin he groaned in pleasure. It excited her and she wanted more. Their hands were in frenzy to divest each other of their respective restricting clothing, to try and reach more flesh, to elicit more moans and whimpers. Frustrated with the situation Clarke pushed Bellamy back and set on taking his shirt off, dragging her nails along his skin and laying kisses on every perfect inch of skin the clothing revealed to her hungry gaze. Finally done taking his shirt off Clarke aimed for his lips, putting all of her in the kiss. It was slower than the rest, deeper, more meaningful than they both expected it to be.

Blue eyes met dark brown and Clarke's tank top joined Bellamy's shirt on the floor, followed by her bra.

His strong big hands felt wonderful on her cold skin, setting on fire everything they touched. Bellamy started slow – he rubbed soothing circles on her hip bones, touched her quivering belly, went up along her ribs and finally covered her breasts with his palms. Clarke moaned, the pressure was incredible and then he squeezed her nipples and her mind went blank. He laid wet kisses along her neck and sank his teeth where her neck met her shoulder, marking her for everyone to see. Clarke threw her head back and bit her lip in an unsuccessful attempt to stop her moans. She wasn't aware that she found little bit of pain that erotic. He did it again and then licked and nibbled down her chest and around her nipples before he took one of them in his mouth and sucked on it, while pinching the other one between his fingers. The torture continued on for what seemed like forever. Her nerve endings were aflame from the pleasure and wet heat pooled between her thighs as her legs turned to jelly. Bellamy was fast to hold her and pushed her backwards until her back met the cold wall of the pod and caged her in with his arms, kissing her until the both of them were out of breath.

It was madness and Clarke lived for it, for this moment of feeling nothing but Bellamy.

The real struggle began when he tried to take her trousers off. The material was wet and sticking to her body and refused to let go. Few pulls, two sets of hands and a snap of a button was all it took to take them off; her shoes got lost along the way as well. Bellamy ran his fingers along the newly exposed skin and hooked one of her legs around his waist. He motioned to her to do the same with her other leg and a moment later they both groaned at the feel of his hardness pressing into her heat. Clarke clenched her legs tighter and moaned at the grinding motion it caused. Bellamy's whispered  _fuck_  against the sensitive skin of her neck was spot on.

He allowed her to move against him few more times before he pushed her back against the wall and griped her hips to stop her squirming. Annoyed at being denied her pleasure Clarke dragged her nails up his back and smirked at the hiss Bellamy let out. He got back at her when he nibbled on her ear and then pulled her hair at the same time as when he moved his hips in circular motion. If she wasn't so into it she would have probably been mortified at the wanton moan she let out of her throat.

One of his hands sneaked between their bodies and pushed her underwear aside. He kissed her again and muffled both their groans when his searching fingers found out exactly how hot and ready she was for him. He gave in to his wishes and sank two of his fingers in her wet warmth. She was so tight and he couldn't wait to be inside her. Bellamy withdrew his fingers, loving the whimper of loss from Clarke, and with her help he unbuttoned his pants and finally freed his cock.

Neither of them had the patience to tease or wait so with the next meeting of their lips he pushed slowly into her heat. He could feel every minuscule twitch of her inner walls, every brush of her nipples against his chest, her teeth against his neck and her nails on his back and it was pleasure like no other.

"Fuck." Clarke couldn't stop the word from leaving her lips even if she had tried. This was so different from her experience with Finn; hotter, better, more passionate, just  _more_.

"I plan to." Oh how she wanted to wipe off that arrogant smirk of his face.

But then Bellamy moved and all thoughts of Finn left her; she could only think  _'do that again'_. And he did. And again, and again, and again, in and out, and in again. It was a never ending rhythm of pleasure, one which Clarke never wanted to stop or get away from.

She had no idea how long they kept going on like that but her orgasm hit her out of the blue. It was an exploding burning liquid that engulfed all of her senses, an intense pleasure that made her deaf and blind to all of her problems, whiteness that swallowed all of her worries and left her feeling only him.

" _Bellamy._ " Her voice cracked and turned the second half of his name into a delightful moan.

He stilled and came inside of her with a nearly silent groan resembling her name and a bite on her shoulder. They were both trembling, hands running over each others' bodies saying what their minds refused to utter, soothing each others' hearts. They stayed connected for few more minutes, trying to normalize their breathing patterns.

Clarke's mind felt so peaceful. The whiteness wasn't as bright as it was a while ago but it was just as saturated. It engulfed her whole being and muffled her thoughts and her worries, her guilt and her hurt. It made it easier to deal with her problems when they weren't all screaming at her at once. This whiteness was her salvation, her safe haven.

She unlocked her legs from around his waist and Bellamy helped her steady her feet when they touched the ground.

"This was-"

"A mistake."

"-incredible."

Clarke glared at him and his laughing brown eyes.

"Admit it, princess, you'd love a second round." He let her push him back and watched her dress with a heavy smug gaze when she didn't immediately refute his statement.

"Don't get strange ideas, Bellamy. This was a onetime thing." It came out sounding really unconvincing and truth to be told Clarke didn't believe it either. Bellamy was the forbidden fruit she wasn't supposed to taste. But she did and now she was addicted.

Bellamy tugged on his pants and sat on one of the makeshift beds all the while watching Clarke. He ran his eyes up her long silky legs and flat belly, over her round breasts and her pale shoulders, her red puffy lips and rosy cheeks until he reached her shining blue eyes. He licked his lips as he remembered how good she felt in his arms, arching up to meet his mouth, how her body fit against his as if she was made for him. This one was worth keeping.

She was still glaring daggers at him. Oh, yes, definitely worth keeping.

He let one small self-satisfied smile grace his face when he spotted the bite marks he had left on her. As he moved around to get a better view he winced when he pulled one of his muscles and felt the angry red lines on his back. His princess gave as good as she got.

The rain had slowed down to a drizzle.

Clarke was done dressing and was trying to fix the mess her hair had become. With her still wet clothes and post-orgasmic bliss written on her face Bellamy found her adorable. But he kept that observation to himself.

She turned around and left the life pod without looking at him.

"See you later, princess." Bellamy called after her and laid down on the bed. He wasn't overly concerned about her sudden indifference.

She will be back in his arms soon.

Bellamy was her whiteness.

And they both knew it.


	2. After Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really grateful to all of the wonderful people who left me kudos or reviwes and who urged me to continue on with this story. I hope you're happy with where this will go.  
> Thank you, Ro, for being my beta.  
> Read, revew, enjoy!

_“It’s not easy being in charge, is it?”_

“No, it isn’t.” Clarke answered to herself few hours into the morning.

Talking with Chancellor Jaha and with the rest of the Council proved to be more tiring than Clarke had imagined it to be. Especially since she refused to tell them who exactly was in charge of the hundred. And then there was her refusal to disclose any information about what had happened the previous night when their communication was cut off because of the storm. It was a mutual unsaid agreement between her and Bellamy to keep quiet about the poison and the torture they had to go through to save Finn. The Ark was simply told that nothing of grave importance had happened and they were happy to live with their illusions.

Then there was Jaha’s constant insisting that she should talk to her mother. But for Clarke the wound was too fresh, still wide open. She needed time to figure out her feelings on the subject and time on Earth flowed differently – there was always something to do, something to help with, and somebody to talk to. Her free time was limited as it was.

If she had to be honest with herself no matter how much time had passed she wasn’t sure she would ever come to terms with what was done. Avoiding the subject for now was her only solution. She was running, which she knew was only a temporary solution, but for now that suited her perfectly.

The white warmth inside her pulsed in time with her heartbeat and called her a liar.

And maybe she was one.

Because she was stalling while telling herself that she simply wasn’t ready to go yet. The coordinates of the supply depot the Ark had given her were neatly written on the yellow pages of one of the empty notebooks they had brought back when part of the group had gone scavenging the bunker Finn had found. She had gone over her writing so many times that she was capable of reciting the place location even in her sleep.

Clarke continued watching as yet another kid went into the communication tent to speak to his parents.

She knew who she _really_ wanted to take with her on this little trip. The most obvious choice would have been Finn as he had experience with tracking and discovering hidden things. Alas, he was still weak and Clarke refused to put him in danger, not after what they had all gone through to save his life. That left her with the one person she both wanted to see and talk to, and avoid at all cost. Bellamy.

Bellamy, whom she hadn’t seen since their little escapade if one didn’t count the brief conversation they had in the morning. She could still feel the pleasant shivers he had sent through her whole body when his hand had grabbed hers. Clarke was very confused about the whole situation. On one hand she didn’t really regret it but on the other she wasn’t sure what her feelings about their get-together were either. If it wasn’t for the peace Bellamy had granted her Clarke was sure that something in her would have snapped, with a loud sound on top of that.

The little white ball of light inside her fluttered with barely suppressed amusement and laughed at her refusal to see what was right in front of her.

Clarke sighed and rolled her eyes – she was animating her thoughts now and arguing with them. Worse of all, she was losing the fights. Earth definitely wasn’t good to her health. With that she checked one last time the communication tent to make sure that everything was proceeding smoothly and then left to look for Bellamy.

It was going to be a long day.

-

She found him talking with his sister. Well, talking wasn’t the right word. More like arguing. Again. Octavia was still mad at him for what they had done to the Grounder.

Come to think of it she wasn’t really happy with Clarke either. Or Raven.

Actually, Clarke wasn’t sure there was a way to make her happy. Unless they blindfolded her and brought her to a butterfly-filled field where the Grounder would wait for her with a pretty little bow around his naked torso.

And they were somehow short on bows.

Bellamy turned around and shook his head at her.

“Not you too, princess. Not now.” Clarke blinked. Had she missed some part of the conversation while she was subtly assessing the tension between the Blake siblings?

It didn’t really matter.

“I talked to the Chancellor this morning.” Bellamy opened his mouth to interrupt her but Clarke didn’t let him say a word. “Apparently there’s an old supplies bunker close by. We should go and check if there’s something useful left in there.”

The ‘we’ in her sentence left no doubt to whom she had in mind.

He had a weird look on his face when he glanced once more at Octavia – who ignored him – and nodded his head in agreement.

“Fine, let me get my stuff.” With that he left the life pod; his fingers brushed the back of her hand on the way out and a jolt of pleasure sparked life in her tired body.

Clarke ruthlessly pushed the vivid flashbacks and the flutters in her stomach in a dark box in the back of her mind. She was perplexed beyond help as it was and playing the scene from last night in her head on a repeat was leading her in circles. Pleasurable circles, but circles nonetheless.

And she really needed to figure this out.

The fact that Bellamy used every opportunity to touch her or attract her attention wasn’t doing her mind any good at all.

She needed to think and turning into goo of mushy feelings was not the way to accomplish that.

Clarke ignored the implication that she could and wanted to find time for her Bellamy situation but not for her mother. Unnecessary details.

She set on to do something productive and her feet took her to where Finn was resting.

Ten minutes later and she nearly jumped in joy when Bellamy came to tell her he was ready to go. Sitting in a room with both Finn and Raven was difficult and unpleasant. She was the third wheel and she was quite aware of that. And Finn didn’t make it any easier when he continued to look at her with those eyes of his that said that things between them were not over yet.

As far as Clarke was concerned – yes, they were. She hated being misled and while Finn hadn’t outright lied to her, he had kept crucial information hidden. If Clarke had known he had a girlfriend in Space things between them would have gone differently. She didn’t want to be part of a love triangle either. To be honest she felt bad for Raven. But the only thing Clarke could do about that was to keep her distance from Finn.

And her involvement with Bellamy, if she could call it that, was enough of a distraction to help with that.

A brush against her shoulder made her look up and she was greeted by Bellamy’s smirk. Her heart sped up. He was touching her. Again. The bite marks on her neck tingled. When she had noticed them she promised herself to strangle him the next time she met him. But at the same time Clarke was secretly grateful for the reminder of that beautiful intimate moment. It was her only light in the grayness that wanted to suffocate her.

If she wasn’t so deep in her thoughts she might have paid more attention to the number of food rations Bellamy was stuffing in his bag.

But as it was she simply smiled absent-mindedly at Jasper’s and Monty’s antics and followed Bellamy out in the woods.

 While walking she got her map out and checked their route once more. Bellamy leaned closer to her and Clarke noticed his masculine scent, it engulfed all of her senses and she stumbled in surprise. His mere presence had a disastrous effect on her mentality. And equilibrium.

Bellamy was quick to catch her elbow and steady her.

“Easy, princess.” Fuck it, she even found his voice attractive.

Clarke was aware she was a teenager on the verge of womanhood but did her hormones really have to dictate her every decision when in close proximity with Bellamy? It was pathetic and she was annoyed with herself.

“Don’t touch me.” She snapped angrily at Bellamy.

The hand around her elbow clenched and his playful expression fell off.

Oh. She shouldn’t have said that. She should _not_ have said that. 

She was irritated with herself, not with him. He had done nothing wrong for her to treat him like that all of a sudden.

He pushed her back until she hit the hard rough trunk of the tree behind her. His face was still set in a cold mask of indifference when his lips nearly touched hers as he whispered “That wasn’t what you were screaming last night.” Clarke’s face burned red. She had no idea if it was from embarrassment or excitement. “Have it your way, princess. I won’t touch you. Not until you ask it of me.” With one last overall look of her against the tree, Bellamy let go of her elbow and continued forward.

Clarke brought her shaking hand to her lips. She got what she wanted…right?

But then why was her heart beating so fast? Why was she so cold without his presence near her? And why was she feeling so disappointed when he didn’t ignore her words and didn’t ravish her right here, against the tree?

-

“Do you think they’ll find something useful?” Jasper nodded in the direction Clarke and Bellamy had left.

“No idea.” Monty raised his hand and got yet another nut in Jasper’s open mouth. “You worry too much.”

“And you don’t worry enough.” Jasper ruffled his hair. “And the Grounder?”

“Well, he has been here for days now. If his people plan on getting him out of here they sure take their time.” Monty shrugged and went back to packing the nuts in the little square pouches. “But these really taste good.” He popped another peanut in his mouth and chewed slowly as if to savour the taste. 

Jasper hummed his agreement. “What family do you think it belongs to? Fabaceae?”

Monty stared at his. “What?”

“You know, beans.” Jasper said as if that explained everything.

“You know I’m pants at telling apart different plants. Give me tech any day of the week and I’ll prove you that miracles do exist.”

Both of them laughed and went back to work.

Octavia passed by and Jasper nearly choked on the nut he was eating.

“Hey, Octavia, have some breakfast.” He tossed her one pouch and tried not to stumble over his jelly legs. “They taste really good.”

The frown on Octavia’s face disappeared for a moment. “Thanks, Jasper.” She pocketed the food and continued on her way.

“Man, you’re so whipped.” Monty snickered next to him and Jasper pretended to not have heard him. Some best friend he had.

He was still gazing lovingly after Octavia’s fading form when he noticed a dark shadow on his left. He turned around to check it out but there was nothing out of the ordinary. He blinked few more times. Weird. He was sure there was somebody standing there.

Monty started talking about the possibilities of making walkie-talkies and Jasper forgot all about his concerns.

He ate another nut.

They tasted so good.

-

This was driving her crazy.

Clarke had eaten all of her nuts and she was still restless.

On top of that she was hyper aware of Bellamy’s every move.

And he wasn’t touching her. Not even an accidental brush of shoulders or something. Hell, he wasn’t even looking at her. It was like he was ignoring her.

Clarke found out that she didn’t like that at all. And it really bothered her how much she hated not being acknowledged by him.

She started at Bellamy’s back. He had a nice set of shoulders.

_Clarke dragged her nails up his back and smirked at the hiss Bellamy let out._

She liked the height difference they had as well.

_He bit her lower lip, soothed it with his tongue and then coaxed her tongue to dance with his._

And his-fuck! Damn the flashbacks.

He hadn’t touched her even when she had tripped over a root hidden beneath leaves. Instead of offering his hand to help her up, Bellamy had given her a tree branch and told her to grab it so that he could pull her up. Needless to say that she got back on her feet by herself. And he had laughed at her. Jerk.

They needed to find the supplies. She looked back to her map. The depot was supposed to be right here.

And – Clarke looked around – there was something resembling a swamp in its place. She huffed in vexation and dropped her bag next to her feet.

Dull sound made her look down. An opening hatch was starring innocently at her. It was covered with dirt and moss and that was the reason why she had missed it at first.

“Bellamy, I think I found it. “ He made his way over to her.

Few minutes later with the help of Bellamy’s hammer and they were in. It was dark, humid and creepy. The air was stale and there were spider webs all over the place.

“Disgusting.”

The state of the bunker was a sad picture and any hope that they could find something useful crashed to the ground. There were broken chairs and upturned tables everywhere, old lamps hanged from the cracked and dripping water ceiling, empty cargo boxes greeted them.

And then there was a dead man sitting on the stairs.

That was revolting on a whole new level.

The water had destroyed everything that hadn’t been distributed among the people before the Cataclysm.  There was nothing left for them.

“Fucking hell!” Bellamy kicked one of the tables when he came to the same conclusion – they were stranded on Earth and they didn’t even own a medical kit. How were they supposed to survive the coming winter when they were already freezing?

Clarke bit her lower lip. There was nothing she could say to make things better. She opened one of the dust covered chests near her. “I got blankets.” She shouted after Bellamy’s retreating form; crashing sounds and more swearing was all she got in return. His anger echoed in the darkness around them.

And then there was utter silence. She frowned, “Bellamy?”

The light of her lamp didn’t reach him. She followed his steps to find him crouched next to a fallen barrel. “Bellamy?”

Instead of answering Bellamy reached forward and held something up.

Clarke’s eyes widened. Was that a-

“Rifle?” Bellamy’s usual smirk was replaced by a big excited smile.

“Ready to be a badass, Clarke?” His enthusiasm was catching.

“No, no. There’s no need for me to learn how to use it.” Clarke wasn’t against the idea of using the guns as necessary means to protect themselves; they needed them, it didn’t matter if she liked that or not. But she wasn’t all that keen on holding a weapon in her hands.

Bellamy didn’t let her back out. “You need to learn.” She hated how convincing he sounded.

Clarke took one of the rifles and watched as Bellamy showed her how to use it, how to put it against her shoulder and how to position her feet. He corrected her arms hold and kicked her feet further apart.

And not once did he touch her.

When he approved of her overall stance, Clarke took aim and pulled the trigger.

Her ears ringed from the sound the shot made and her shoulder throbbed from the recoil. Other than that it felt… good, amazing, exciting even.

She wanted to try again. So she did. She took aim but nothing followed.

“Some of the bullets might be dud.” He was watching her. His gaze was warm and he had the biggest loveliest smile on his face.

Clarke’s breath hitched. The whiteness broke free and filled out her whole being.

In two steps she had dropped the rifle and was in front of him. And then she kissed him. Relief soothed her soul and wicked shivers raced down her spine. She couldn’t believe how much she had missed this – feeling his lips against hers.

It could have been even better if he had kissed her back. But he didn’t.

Clarke pulled back and frowned at him. There was definitely interest and heat in his dark eyes but he made no move to kiss her or pull her closer. She kissed him again, harder, and ran her tongue along his lower lip.

Bellamy clenched his fists and willed his body not to respond, which proved to be impossible when he had Clarke pressed so deliciously against him, and oh so willing, her soft inviting lips a temptation he barely resisted. But she was the one who set the rules as they were and he had no intention of stepping over them until he hears Clarke’s admission. It had driven both of them crazy the whole day but when Bellamy wanted something he went all out. And what he wanted was Clarke to want him back just as much.

He took pity on her and her inner struggle as she tried to figure out what was wrong. “Say the magic words, princess.” He loved the battle he was privy to as Clarke grasped the meaning behind his words and her pride faced her desire. The play of emotions on her face was something that Bellamy was sure he would never get tired of. It made her look so full of life.

“Bellamy,” her eyes were pleading with him but he stood his ground. “…touch me.” Clarke barely got the words out of her mouth before Bellamy kissed her and swallowed the whimper of pleasure she had emitted. His hands found their way to her hips and pulled her closer.

_About damn time._

She _did_ fit perfectly in his embrace, just as he knew from their previous one on one meeting. But the present was so much better than the past, so he focused on kissing Clarke with all of his pent-up frustration since that day. Not touching her when he knew what her skin felt and tasted like was one of the hardest things he had done in a while. His left hand circled her waist while his right one gently traced the contours of her neck and up her jaw until he secured it against the back of her head. Her hands were stuck between their bodies but Bellamy didn’t care about anything else as long as he was kissing her.

He let her go of her puffy wet lips and laid fluttering, barely there kisses on her cute nose and on her closed blue eyes, on her porcelain cheeks and along her jaw line until his mouth was back on hers and their tongues continued their battle for dominance.

Clarke was sure she was in heaven. Why did she even resist this? Her whole body was buzzing from the pleasure and the warmth of being back in Bellamy’s arms. She finally freed one of her hands and wove it around his neck; her fingers played with the ends of his hair at his nape. She was burning and flashbacks from where their last lip lock had ended made her moan.

This felt so right.

Bellamy wanted her so much it hurt. Literally. He was already hard for her. That was what he needed – one last good memory.

She was aware that Bellamy had muttered something against her lips but Clarke’s brain was slow to process the words and then he was kissing her again and all rational thought left her mind.

But maybe not all because something suddenly clicked. The way he had looked at Octavia earlier that day as if he was memorising her features, the big quantity of food portions he had brought along, his adamancy to teach her how to use a rifle. And now this. It suddenly all made sense.

Clarke pushed him back with all her might.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning on fucking leaving!” Her voice was still breathy and it pleaded with him to disagree but her mind had already analysed all the possibilities and the conclusion was one – he was planning on doing exactly that.

His guilty look was proof enough.

Her heart stopped. No, no, no, he couldn’t leave. And that’s exactly what she told him.

His laugh was harsh and she itched to wipe the defeated and lost expression off of his face. “Do you think Jaha will forgive me for almost killing him? What I did was treason of the highest rank. And do I need to remind you about the three hundred and twenty people they floated because of me?” Clarke could taste his guilt and it was tearing her apart.

“Don’t be like this. We’ll figure something out. I can talk to him an-“

“I don’t want to have this conversation with you.” He walked past her and got lost in the darkness of the depot.

Clarke never felt as alone as in that moment.

-

Octavia looked around – Jasper definitely wasn’t the only one acting weird. Some guy she didn’t know personally was running around camp screaming, another one was laughing non-stop, and a girl running in circles were few of the examples for strange behaviour.  

What was wrong with all of them?

Her gaze landed on the table where Jasper and Monty were working today. There were quite a few opened and empty food bags but some of the rations were still there.

A quick glance at Jasper assured her that he was still clutching the anti-Grounder stick and he wasn’t screaming bloody murder.

Another girl went past her and Octavia noticed that she was eating something. And that something looked suspiciously like the nuts Jasper had given her earlier. Nuts, that Octavia never came around to eat.

She grinned as a plan formulated in her head.

She had a guard to outwit and a Grounder to sneak out.

Octavia had only one chance but she was willing to take the risk.

And it proved to be totally worth it – the kiss she got in return kept her warm the whole night.

-

Seeing her dad felt really good.

But it was also disturbing – she was either dead or dreaming. She didn’t remember falling asleep, just really bright colours and bending weapons and then Jake Griffin was standing in front of her and she was back in her little oppressing white cell.

Hugging him felt good, talking to him felt even better but she knew she wasn’t dead. And that meant that her father, his actions, his words – they were all fruits of her sub-consciousness. That included his request that she should forgive her mother.

What would you know; she actually wanted to forgive her father’s betrayer. What a joy.

They talked for a while and it felt like back in the old days when everything was so simple and easy. She was lost in her memories when he suddenly grabbed her shoulder.

“You have to snap out of this, Clarke.” Her father’s voice sounded really serious and tense. “Snap out of it!”

She blinked few times in surprise. The cell faded and she was back in the depot on her knees, the rifle was few feet away. Colourful specs of light danced in front of her and obscured her vision. A sound behind her made her turn.

She squinted against the colours. “Bellamy?”

“You wish, you crazy bitch.” Clarke could barely make out the form of Dax, one of the people she had urged today to talk to their parents, before he lifted another rifle and slammed it on the back of her head.

Darkness took over.

-

 _‘Bellamy!’_ was the first thing that filled her mind when she opened her eyes.

She had a killer headache and her left side was stiff from the awkward angle she had fallen unconscious in.

Clarke rubbed her eyes and tried to clear out her clouded mind and the confusion that still lingered. There was something about a person named Dax. What was it about again?

 _Oh!_ He was the one who had hit her. She had to warn Bellamy, she had no idea what that psycho had in mind. He was clearly dangerous. And he had acquired one of the rifles.

She shook the fatigue from her limbs and took one of the lamps that was, thankfully, still close by. Then she eyed her rifle. With a sigh of hesitation she took it and made her way out of the bunker.

Hopefully she wouldn’t have to open fire.

It was dark outside and Clarke’s heart froze – how long had she been out? Had Dax got to Bellamy?

Adrenaline pumped her muscles and she took off in a run. Her tiny lamp wasn’t helping much and she desperately wanted to scream Bellamy’s name. She refrained from doing so because she wasn’t sure what would happen if Dax heard her first, or, if she was really unlucky, one of the Grounders.

Fear for Bellamy’s life pushed her harder and harder. She had to find him. He had to be alive.

She _needed_ for him to be alive.

Clarke wandered in the woods for quite a while before she heard a pain filled grunt. Hope filled her chest. The sound meant that he was still alive.

She listened closely for the direction from which the sound had come from and when another wheeze of pain reached her ears she took a right turn and neared a small clearing.

“Kill me, just kill me. Please. I deserve to die.” That was clearly Bellamy; he sounded so broken, so unlike his usual cocky self. “I can’t fight anymore.”

Clarke’s chest felt tight and she found it hard to breathe properly and quietly. Her hands were shaking as they held the gun close to her abdomen. Six feet and she saw them – Bellamy was on his knees and Dax knocked him on his back with a well-aimed hit of his fist.

Why wasn’t Bellamy fighting back?

But that didn’t matter when Dax raised his rifle and targeted Bellamy.

Clarke started running.

He took aim.

She was almost there.

And pulled the trigger.

Nothing. His bullet was dud.

“Put the weapon down, Dax.” He whirled around to see her weapon aimed at him.

“I would have left you alive, Clarke.” Dax shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing personal.”

Clarke pulled the trigger before he was done talking.

Her bullet turned out to be dud as well.

Dax smirked.

Clarke dove to the side and the bullet aimed for her head hit the trunk of the tree.

Clarke loaded her weapon and shot once more. Another dud. Damn it!

Bellamy used the moment when Dax was reloading his weapon to tackle him to the ground and managed to wrestle the rifle out of his hands. They exchanged few blows and Bellamy was losing, badly. He had taken quite the beating before and he was drained emotionally. But there was no way he would let Dax kill Clarke.

A gun shot rang and Dax looked shocked for a moment before he slumped over Bellamy.  Behind him, Clarke was holding her rifle up and smoke was coming out of the muzzle.

She had killed Dax.

Bellamy pushed Dax’s body aside and crawled to the base of the closest tree.

Clarke dropped the rifle as if she’d got burned and sat next to him.

They were quiet for a while.

“Stay.” It was one word but it had so much meaning behind it.

Bellamy glanced at her – she was pale and looked tired beyond belief.

“I have too many demons to slay.”

“We can face them together.”

He hated the renewed hope that reared its head inside his heart. “I might not have killed the Chancellor, Clarke, but I’m still a monster.”

“You’re not a monster, Bellamy. Nor are you a murderer.”

The ‘unlike me’ hanged in the air between them.

“You’re not one either. You saved my life. You did what you had to do.” She cracked a small smile. She believed him somehow even as she was staring at Dax’s lifeless body.

“Then why you can’t accept that you did the same?” Her fingers brushed the back of his hand. “Stop running and face it.”

“Like you do?”

Clarke grimaced. “I had a rather enlightening conversation with my dad.” She didn’t elaborate further. “I’ll talk to my mother.” A small pause. “Tomorrow.” Bellamy laughed.

It felt good to laugh and Clarke smiled that beautiful hopeful smile of hers.

His hand grabbed hers and he let his head rest on top of hers.

“I’ll stay.” He said after few minutes.

-

Putting her trust in Bellamy was her choice. Proving her wrong was his.

And he had no intention of doing that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was I the only one jumping like a small kid in a candy room when I watched 1x08? ;D
> 
> So how do you like this? I plan to see how the plot of the show will go on and I'll decide which parts I'll take and which I'll ignore/change.
> 
> You're welcomed to ask questions if you have any.
> 
> -M.


	3. Little Talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update was kinda fast. Don't always expect that to be so ;D  
> Thank you for all the kudos and the reviews!

It was dark and Clarke couldn’t move, her body felt still, paralyzed.

She looked around – there was blackness everywhere, she couldn’t even see her own arms. It was as if she knew she existed but she wasn’t able to see herself. Clarke forced the rapidly growing panic down and tried to backtrack to the last thing she remembered.

But there was nothing. Her memory was a blank spot.

The feeling of dread left bitter taste in her mouth and it spread like acid through her bloodstream.

Something was very wrong.

Invisible ropes crept along her legs and arms, bounding them tight. Another set of ropes circled her neck and then moved down to criss-cross over her chest. Something pulled them tight and Clarke’s limited air supply suddenly became even less.

She tried to struggle, to move, to shout, to see. But she wasn’t able to do anything.

The fear was taking over her mind. Her instincts urged her to fight, to live but there was nothing else besides the darkness that caressed her skin like a lover.

She was going to die here, all alone.

Steps echoed and Clarke held her breath. Was that her saviour or her executor?

The steps came closer and closer until she could feel the presence stopping few feet away from her. _Thump-thump-thump_ her heart went as she waited for something, _anything_ to break the terror she was drowning in.

A click and sudden bright light blinded her. Clarke blinked few times and tried to focus her attention on the figure in front of her.

In his right hand the person was holding a knife and there was rope coiled around his left fist, rope that with increasing panic Clarke noted leaded to the one around her neck. He was wearing dark cargo pants with a matching open jacket over a dirty black sweatshirt with the hood up. The light was too bright for Clarke to see his face properly.

She squinted her eyes at the light to try and make out some of his features but to no avail.

A moment later that proved to be unnecessary as her captor raised one hand and pushed the hood back.

Sickly pale face with dark blue veins visible beneath paper thin skin greeted her. Bloodshot cruel eyes and blue lips stretched in an insane smile brought an overall finish to the picture.

“You should have left me kill him, Clarke.” His gruff voice prodded her hazy memory.

The realisation that she knew that person terrified her.

Because he was supposed to be dead.

Clarke struggled harder against her bonds but she wasn’t really moving. She was simply an observer watching the events from behind her own eyes, stuck inside her own body.

“Nothing personal.” With that Dax raised both hands and cut the rope connecting him to Clarke.

She started falling and the faster she was doing that the less she could breathe. She was going to run out of oxygen before she could reach the ground. How was she aware that there was an end to her falling Clarke had no idea or time to figure it out; but she could feel it in her bones. The wind was grabbing and pulling at her clothes, it was filling her ears with agonising shrieks and it was doing everything possible to remind her how small she actually was.

Her eyes were glassy with unleashed tears.

She had been wrong – the crash was inevitable and pain like no other pierced her whole body.

-

Clarke opened her eyes and nearly leaped from her sleeping bag in an attempt to get away from the nightmare that still haunted her. Her skin glistened with cold sweat and her arms were shaking when she lifted them to push back her wet hair out of her face. She brushed the tears away and whimpered in dismay when the last moments of her nightmare flashed through her head.

She knew that killing Dax was different from killing Atom but she wasn’t ready for the guilt that was eating her from the inside. She had taken the life of a perfectly healthy human being and she had felt no remorse while pulling the trigger.

At least now she fit in with the other juvenile delinquents rather nicely.

She was a cold-hearted murderer.

_“You saved my life.”_

Bellamy.

Something in her chest eased and let her breathe better. Clarke looked around and was both surprised and glad that she hadn’t woken up anyone when she had fled her bed. But there was no way she could go back to sleep after the experience she just had. She looked at her watch, her father’s watch, and grimaced when she saw the time – it was barely four twenty in the morning. Clarke shook the leftover feelings from the nightmare and dressed as quietly as she could and left the shuttle.

The air outside was extremely cold. The temperatures were dropping drastically over the last few days and Clarke worried that even with the blankets she and Bellamy found they wouldn’t survive the coming winter.

She rubbed her hands together to keep them warm and decided to take a walk around the camp. Their defences were still lacking but they had sentries to guard the walls the group had raised and fires and torches in strategic places to help them see better in the semi-dense forest. The added security the rifles gave also helped to boost their confidence. All in all, Clarke thought that it could have been worse.

She wandered around aimlessly and was little surprised when she stopped in front of the graveyard. Clarke hadn’t visited it since they buried Wells. She counted the graves and the counted again. There was one more than they should have. There were the two guys that had died in the shuttle, Atom in the acid fog, Wells had been stabbed, Charlotte had leaped off a-

Charlotte. Someone had dug an empty grave for little Charlotte.

And she had an inkling as to who that might be.

Clarke looked around to find a place to sit but it was either the cold wet ground or the frost covered log. Frankly, it didn’t really matter so she sat on the ground and hugged her knees to her chest to preserve her body heat.

“Hey, Wells.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “Sorry that I haven’t visited. It’s little hectic around here. And with so many things going on I didn’t really think about you all that much. I’m so sorry.”And she really was, for many things. “You haven’t missed all that much, we just have difficult time getting accustomed to living on Earth. But you can say that it’s an adventure all right. After all we can’t have the good in life without the bad.”

Clarke smiled – it was a sad smile, but a smile nevertheless.

“Let me tell you how the whole camp got high on some nuts yesterday, me included. You see...”

At first she felt stupid for talking to his grave. But as minutes turned to hours Clarke relaxed and told him about everything under the sun. She recounted the things he hadn’t lived to be a part of; she shared her fears and her dreams for the future, her hopes and her disappointments. She poured out her heart to him.

It was quite a while later when the crunching of leaves stopped her narration.

“What are you doing here, princess?” She tipped her head to the side and saw Bellamy who was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He had bunch of purple flowers in his left hand.

“Confessing my sins.” Clarke turned back to the graves.

Bellamy yawned. “Does it work?” He took few steps and crouched to the ground to lay the flowers on one of the graves. Clarke noticed that that particular grave had other flowers on it as well; Charlotte’s most probably.

She shrugged and he sat next to her. “No idea. But I do feel better.”

He glanced at her and frowned at the dark circles under her eyes. Tucking a strand of her blond hair behind her ear he wasn’t happy to feel the coldness of her skin either.

“How long have you been out here?” He sounded worried; how cute of him. Clarke wasn’t aware she could find Bellamy to be a comfort like no other.

She pushed the sleeve of her jacket up and looked at her watch. Huh. It was nine o’clock. She hadn’t really paid attention to the morning light taking over the darkness of the night.

“Give or take few hours.” Her throat felt little dry and all of a sudden she was aware of how hungry and thirsty she was.

The silence didn’t last more than few minutes. “Come on, I won’t have you freeze on me.” With that Bellamy got back on his feet and helped Clarke up.

She was stiff from sitting on the ground for so long and as she stretched her legs out she wasn’t surprised to experience the unpleasant feeling of pins and needles. She swayed a bit and Bellamy’s hand on her lower back was the only thing that preventing her from tumbling to the ground.

He didn’t ask her if she was all right.

Because she wasn’t and they both knew it. And neither was he.

None of the hundred were alright but all they could do was move forward. It was always the hardest before the finish line and while they were maybe only half-way there that little flicker of hope was their only salvation.

“Got another trip for us today, princess?” His tone was light as he walked by her side.

“I’m sorry but I plan to bore you to death today. No creepy bunkers or assassins after your hide.”

Bellamy arched his eyebrow at her; his question was more than clear.

“Go get Miller, Raven and Finn. And if you see your sister – she’s welcomed to come too. I’ll go find Jasper and Monty. Meet you in the communication tent in twenty minutes.”

“What’s this about?”

“We need to talk.” And with that Clarke waved him off and went to find the ridiculous duo.

Bellamy watched her leave.

“And that didn’t sound ominous at all.”

-

Miller was the last person to enter the tent; he hadn’t been exactly happy to see Bellamy’s face so early in the morning considering that he had been on patrol until six in the morning. Nonetheless he was here now.

“So what is this about? The rifles?” Miller covered his yawn with one hand and looked at Bellamy who was staring expectantly at Clarke.

“No, it’s about the Grounders.” Jasper nearly fell from his seat when Clarke spoke next to his ear and Monty blinked owlishly at her. Raven’s face darkened and Octavia looked much more interested in the conversation than a moment ago. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while and I would like to share my observations and conclusions with you all.” Clarke didn’t know what to make of Finn’s expression. Miller was obviously thinking hard on this and Bellamy just continued to stare at her. “I want you to do the same.”

They all nodded in agreement, some more enthusiastically than the rest.

“There is really no perfect way to start this.” Clarke stopped for a moment; she had thought long and hard on this and talking to Wells in the morning had helped her clear up some of the confusions in her head.

“I think that the Grounders that hunted us when we crossed the border and the one that took Octavia away and who we later caught perform different... duties for their community.” Clarke looked at them; nobody voiced an objection. “The Grounder we captured –“

“And tortured for saving me.”Octavia couldn’t help but add.

“Octavia, behave.” Bellamy ticked her off.

“- I think he was something like an observer, a little bit of a loner too. You all have seen his notebook and the sketches inside.” Clarke took the small notebook from the back pocket of her trousers and went through it until she reached the page with the markings of the numbers of their dead. “We never saw him but apparently he was keeping a close eye on us. Close enough to draw in detail our defences. Close enough to know our exact number and to see us burring two of our own immediately after we crash landed.” Finn refused to meet her gaze when she gave an overall glance to the group.

“We know that they use the trees to come and go.” Miller was the first to take part of the discussion.

Raven nodded in agreement. “This is their homeland – they probably know every nook and cranny.”

“I think you’re missing the point.” Everybody looked at Jasper. “For him to be that close it means that he has to pass the river. The same river that we thought signalised the end of their border, a line that they wouldn’t dare to cross, a sacred boundary of sorts.”

“Why haven’t they attacked us then? Before we had the walls, before the rifles, when we were still divided and against each other?” Bellamy voiced all of their thoughts. “It’s not like they lack the skills or the weapons to decrease our numbers.”

“Maybe like Clarke said – they wanted to observe us and estimate our potentialities. Know thy enemy and all that shit.”

“You have a point,” Monty inclined his head to Finn, “but if they wanted to sit back and watch us why did they wound Jasper and use him as a bait to try and catch and kill more of us?”

“Trespassing?” They had no real answer to that.

“What else, princess?”

“You mentioned their weapons and the ease with which they wield them. But what kind of weapons do they use? Spears, knives, booby traps and sharpened animal bones. Extremely clever and well used but they look little primitive compared to the guns we found. And if we found them why couldn’t they?”

“There might not be that much weapons left after the Cataclysm.” That was Monty.

”Or they might have ran out of bullets.” Finn added.

Miller looked little more awake now. “Plus, guns make too much noise. They can kiss their stealth goodbye.”

“Fair enough.” Clarke hesitated for a moment. “The Grounders that came after you when you went looking for Octavia, I don’t think they were simple hunters. I think they were warriors.”

Octavia frowned. “What’s the difference?”

This was going to sound weird. “Let’s presume that they have a tribe-like community. That includes hunters, craftsmen, people that gather edible supplies, a healer or two, people who are responsible for looking after their little ones. They would also have a tribal chief and he’ll have advisors. Things like that. Things that we have amongst our group as well. But when does a group of people need warriors?”

Bellamy felt sick at Clarke’s implication. “When they go to war.”

“Wait, wait. Are you implying that they’re fighting something else besides us?” Raven’s words send chills down their backs.

“I don’t know. It might mean that there are other Grounder tribes or that radiation has created monsters they need protection from. All I know is that you don’t learn how to put traps like that overnight. You don’t become a warrior after a day of observing.”

The silence was heavy and more than little repressing.

If the Grounders were fighting against something else, somebody else, then what chance did they have?

“And there is another thing.”

Monty groaned with exasperation and Jasper sympathised with him.

“Get on with it.” Miller really wished he had stayed in bed. They day would have been that much better without all the insane thoughts Clarke had shared.

“I don’t think they know what electricity is or what it does. When Raven plugged out the electricity cables from the shuttle the other day and used them to make the Grounder talk” If glares could kill Raven would have been six feet under and Octavia would have been a happy Blake. “he looked really scared. He didn’t even flinch at the torture before – yes, it was paining him but he was no stranger to physical harm if we judge by the scars on his back. But there was real fear when the cables ignited a spark and sent electricity through his body.”

“But why? Earth had electricity before the Cataclysm and as we ourselves found out there are still working parts here and there. It they have some kind of battery it’s not that hard to do the wiring and everything.” Monty looked really confused.

“Maybe they ran out of batteries.”

“Or the people that could do that died and the knowledge was lost. Maybe mostly kids survived the Cataclysm and they were more worried about their next meal and didn’t have the time to ponder the wonders of electricity. Or maybe I’m just exaggerating things and the Grounder simply wasn’t aware that cables with running current could cause pain.”Clarke took a deep breath. “I just wanted to get it out there.” She bit her lip and finally sat down feeling little silly for voicing her thoughts but it was better that way – more people to think over them, to toss them aside or to agree with them.

“Logically speaking, most parents would do anything to let their kids live even if it meant sacrificing their own lives in the process.” Clarke noticed the subtle way Bellamy flinched and tried to hide his disagreement with Finn’s statement. “So it’s possible and quite realistic that most of the more obscure and in-depth knowledge for some topics has been lost.”

They all agreed in some way or another with his words.

“Also, about the Grounder, do you remember his cave?” Finn turned to Jasper, Octavia and Bellamy. “He had different little trinkets and parts of things. It’s as if he is...” here he struggled for words.

“Fascinated.” Octavia offered helpfully.

Finn smiled at her in thanks. “Exactly. As if he is fascinated with the world before the Cataclysm. Like a curious child.”

“So,” Miller raised his hand and started ticking off on his fingers as he continued his thought, “the river may or may not be a boundary, they may or may not be fighting something else than us, and they may or may not possess knowledge about guns and electricity. Did I miss something?”

“That’s pretty much it. Except the ‘they may or may not understand English’. And I think they do.” Bellamy added with a tired sigh. “And we have no idea if that’s a good or a bad thing.”

The group split for a short food break and then continued with more urgent matters like organising more hunting parties, needing more winter supplies and figuring out when to conduct rifle lessons for those they deemed trustworthy to wear a weapon. Also, they needed more scavenging groups to look for old bunkers and anything else they could find a use for.

At last, they breached the subject about the Ark. They still had to figure out what they were going to do when part of the Ark people land on Earth and try and take control of things, which without a doubt they would want and the hundred would very much hate, including Clarke. And the suspicions Raven shared about the Ark’s drop ships capacity was another hindrance they could do without.

They kept talking for few more minutes and then they got ready to end the meeting.

“Any last words, princess?” Bellamy just had to ask to see the looks of outrage, hopelessness and pleading the rest of the group had.

Clarke just shrugged. “We shouldn’t underestimate the Grounders. We might have guns but they have survived the Cataclysm and learned how to live on Earth, a quest that most of us would have failed at.”

“You’re such a ray of sunshine, Clarke.” Octavia shouted back as she left the tent; the rest followed her lead.

Bellamy laughed.

-

It had been a long and tiring day. The physical work proved to be less of a hassle than Bellamy thought and the real problem turned out to be Clarke’s idea for a meeting.

It was too much to call it even a problem, more like it was taxing to think about all those things at once – to try and predict the Grounders’ next move, to try and placate the Ark, and basically to figure out how to live on Earth. They struggled enough as it was without having to spare any extra energy for Ark politics and Grounders motives.

But they couldn’t afford to ignore them either and now Bellamy’s mind was bursting with pain. His headache had started a while ago and was slowly growing in strength – his whole head was throbbing and he could feel his heartbeat pulsing along his temples. And wasn’t that a joy.

He had crashed in his bed as soon as he had the chance to and now he was leisurely laying on his back, one hand behind his head and the other over his eyes. If only he could fall asleep but the fucking headache wouldn’t let him.

A noise near his tent opening drew his attention back to the present.

“Go away.” It came out more like a growl than real words but it conveyed his feelings on being disturbed quite clearly.

Apparently the person had a death wish because Bellamy could hear steps coming closer to his bed and then lots of clothes’ rustling. He was about to snap at the intruder again when warm small hands slowly pushed his shirt up and a wet warm tongue circled his bellybutton.

Now didn’t his princess have a nice idea how to cheer him up?

He had to see her. Bellamy lowered his hand and wove it in the hair that was tickling his sides. The texture felt different and Bellamy opened his eyes immediately. The smoky eyes staring back at him definitely weren’t Clarke’s.

“Janet?”

In the exact same moment when his mind caught up with the events happening and the fact that the girl in his bed wasn’t who he expected, his tent flap opened once again.

“Bellamy, I heard that you-“

He knew that voice and turning his head in the direction it had come from proved his greatest fear. He cringed. She always had the best timings.

 Clarke’s eyes were an unreadable shade of blue.

-

Clarke stood frozen; her right hand was still clutching the tarpaulin like material of the tent. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the view in front of her.

Bellamy let go of the girl’s hair and pushed her back as he sat at the foot of his bed.

Wicked cold rage raced through Clarke’s veins and she saw red. First Finn and now Bellamy. Really, was she cursed or something? But while she had kept her temper and tongue in check with Raven, she had no such reservations with Bellamy. He was going to get it.

“Get out.” Her eyes focused on the dark haired girl; she could barely recognise her own voice, it was alien even to her own ears – cold and vicious and promising so much pain.

The girl scoffed in her direction and looked at Bellamy for instructions but he was ignoring her completely; his dark eyes were fixed on Clarke. Clearly not happy with how things were progressing, the girl gathered her jacket from the floor and with one last glare at Clarke, she left the tent.

Clarke tried; she really tried to keep her temper in. To not slap him so hard that her palm would be etched on his face in bright red, to think rationally about this and to at least hear his side of the story. To count to ten and calm down. One, two, three—

“Princess, look-“ But he had to go and open his mouth and call her that mere seconds after another girl had vacated his bed.

She was in front of him in a flash and she raised her hand to slap him. Fortunately or not, Bellamy anticipated her course of action and caught her wrist before she could lay a hit. Clarke was quick to change hands and Bellamy let her hit him this time.

“Feeling better now?”

That appeared to be the wrong thing to say because she tried to slap him once again and he caught her other hand as well. Her eyes were spitting fire and she attempted to free her arms but the only thing she achieved was to make Bellamy tighten his hold. When that didn’t work she raised her leg to knee him in the groin but he saw that too and tugged her closer, disturbing her balance in the process and she toppled over him. Bellamy didn’t waste a single moment to reverse their positions and using his weight he trapped her struggling body beneath his. He pinned her hands over her head with one of his and then used his other one to clamp shut her mouth when she started cursing at him.

She struggled a while more until her energy left her and then she settled for glaring.

Bellamy had to admit that there was something very arousing about an angry Clarke. Her face was rosy and the redness had spread down her neck and on the tops of her peaking breasts. Her blond hair was a messy halo around her head, her blue eyes a storm promising retribution. He could feel every move of her raising chest and her laboured breaths. With her hands over her head and at his mercy she was the most breathtaking thing he had ever seen.

“Done?” Bellamy arched his eyebrow at her and let more of his weight rest on her when she tried to bite his hand. A minute later she gave a defeated nod. “Good. Now, I shall explain what you saw and what actually happened.”

He gave up all pretence and held her hurt gaze. “I was half-asleep when she entered my tent. She came to my bed and at first I thought she as you. When you walked in I was just about to push her away. Nothing happened.” He repeated the last sentence twice more for good measure and willed her to believe him. “Are we good now?” Another nod.

He slowly released her wrists and removed his hand from her mouth. She didn’t do or say anything, which was scarier than her hits. Bellamy frowned and was about to explain things further when she pushed him off her and followed right after. Clarke straddled his lap, yanked hard at his hair until Bellamy hissed in pain, and brought their faces close.

“Now, you listen to me. If I see one of _those_ girls around you, talking to you, flirting with you,” Clarke pulled his hair even harder, “or, God help you, in your tent – you can kiss what we have between us goodbye. Do I make myself clear?”

Was it possible to want her even more? “Yes.”

“Good.” Her eyes flashed and the painful hold on his hair slackened.

Bellamy wasted no time in bringing their mouths together. Their teeth clashed from the force and Clarke’s lip split open but all they paid attention to were the feelings the kiss ignited in them.

What they had between them was raw passion and it was erasing all thoughts from their minds. The only things that mattered were the feel of Clarke’s naked skin against his, the scrapping of Bellamy’s teeth along her neck, the moans and gasps of pleasure, the breathless screams of growing excitement.

It was impossible to tell where one ended and the other started. They were one whole.

Bellamy unbuttoned her trousers and nibbled on her earlobe. Clarke mewled in delight and ran her hands over his shoulders; both their shirts had gotten lost in the frenzy. Her trousers and underwear followed suit and Bellamy reversed their position yet again and laid Clarke on his bed. And didn’t she look perfect there.

He wanted to make it good, to make her forget her doubts, her fears. And he did.

He kissed and licked and nibbled her whole body. He teased her nipples and tickled her sides. He kissed her slow and hard, and gently and fleetingly. He brought her to orgasm with just his skilled fingers and rocked her world with his wicked tongue. He made her scream his name and muffled it with his mouth.

And then Bellamy was in her and it was pure nirvana.

His strokes were slow; he wanted to enjoy her heat as long as possible. He moved back and ran his fingers over her soft legs. Bellamy pulled one up to rest on his shoulder and continued his slow rocking against her. The angle change helped him hit that secret spot in Clarke’s body every bloody time and the blond angel in his bed wasn’t far from her second release.

“ _Bellamy_.” Her panting voice pleaded with him and he gave in. He couldn’t refuse her anything it seemed.

His hips picked up speed and soon they were both moaning in pleasure.

Clarke circled his hips with her legs and pulled him even closer, harder. She was so close and she wanted to bring him over with her.

One of his hands sneaked between their sweaty bodies and with a flick on her clit Clarke was sent flying. Her nerve endings exploded and that sacred whiteness enveloped her in a tight embrace. Bellamy swallowed her pleasure-filled cry and his thrusts stopped as he found his own release. His very soul was on fire and his heart pumped liquid drug through his blood.

Drug called Clarke.

As they both came around he was careful not to crush her and kissed her pouty lips. Her sated sleepy smile went straight through his heart. He moved off her and laid on his side. She cuddled next to him and he stroked her messy hair.

Just as he thought that she’ll fall asleep in his arms Clarke sighed, kissed his chest, rose and started dressing.

Suddenly Bellamy felt very cheap and cold.

She was almost done when he found to courage to say _‘stay’_. But instead of that, what came out of his mouth was something completely different but still true.

“There hasn’t been anyone else since you.”

She looked at him and smiled. “See you later, Bellamy.”

Bellamy rubbed his face.

He was getting too involved, too attached and too quickly.

His headache was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because we all can do with little smut on a Monday!
> 
> And we had a jealous!Clarke, kinda cute if you ask me ;3
> 
> Anyway, cheers!
> 
> \- M.


	4. Coming Clean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your support!

The morning after was bright, the air was fresh and crisp and Clarke could hear the birds’ songs that echoed around the camp.

All in all, the atmosphere was pretty harmonic and peaceful, unlike her inner condition.

The past few days everything had been so chaotic and out of her control. Her actions were based on rash decisions, no premeditation had taken place. It aggravated her to no end. Usually, she would stop and think but apparently that was not always the case. Especially not when feelings were involved.

She hadn’t slept the whole night; partially because she feared another nightmare but mostly because her thoughts were like a sticky spider web – one led to another, that one pulled the next one, and on and on until she was stuck with no exit, no solution to her problems. The more she struggled against her restrains, the more she drowned under the pressure of her issues. Until the only road she was temporary running from became the only road she could take to solve her predicament – she had to face them, her demons.

She had to come clean with all of them, with herself.

Lying to herself didn’t help; neither did avoiding the people she had a disagreement with. And the number of such people was constantly increasing – her mom, Finn, Raven, Bellamy.

Bellamy wasn’t really a problem per say, Clarke just had no idea what to do with him. She was terrified of the fact that she couldn’t stay away from him, she hadn’t expected the feelings he sparked in her and she hadn’t been and still wasn’t ready for them.

But he was like a magnet and she felt hopelessly drawn to him time after time. 

Seeing him with another girl had nearly burned a hole through her heart and the ice cold rage and betrayal she had felt, not to mention the searing jealousy that had reared its head made her realise that maybe yes, she didn’t know _what_ she felt for him, but he deserved a chance, _they_ deserved a chance. And she was sick of running, she was going to grant them that chance and see where things  would lead.

It could be another broken heart, like Finn, but it also could be so much more. Comfort, affection, contentment, joy, satisfaction, wonder, humor, amusement, freedom… _love_. And deep down Clarke craved that sort of companionship and she was brave enough to take one more leap of faith and risk it with Bellamy.

But if she wanted to give them a real shot, she had to tie up her loose ends.

All of them.

She might not have liked Bellamy from the start but the only thing without a doubt she respected about him was the fact that he had never deceived her; he never distorted the truth to spare her feelings on any matter. He might have refused to tell her his reasons but he had seen her and he had acknowledged her strength, her bravery.

And if she was to commit to this relationship they had, then she owed him the same – no lies, no back thoughts about other people, no inferiority complexes, no running from her problems.

Strangely enough she felt a burning desire to make what they had between them work. It made no sense to her logical predisposition, but then again neither did Earth and she still found it beautiful.

Seeing as today was Unity Day, Clarke thought that there was no better day to carry out her resolution.

With that Clarke got out of her bed, pulled on her jacket and boots and headed to the communication tent.

One step at a time.

And the first one was her mother.

-

She always hated waiting. Waiting was nerve-wrecking, waiting makes you come up with a million different scenarios of what could go wrong, and most of all waiting gave you the opportunity to change your mind and back off.

Clarke was sitting on a make-shift chair in the communication tent. Her leg was tapping nervously against the metal construction of the table on which the monitor they used for transmissions was. The camera was on and the little red signal lamp annoyed Clarke to no end. The headphones were already on her head and the microphone brushed her cheek every time she moved.

She had contacted the Ark few minutes ago and the person on duty went to fetch her mother.

The waiting was killing her. She had no idea how she was going to react when she sees her mother – was she going to cry again? Or maybe she was going to scream and blame her? But she did that the last time they spoke. And even though Clarke didn’t think she could forgive her she didn’t want to fight further either. Like it or not, Abigail Griffin was her only living blood relative and no matter what she was still her mother.

And Clarke missed her.

“Clarke?” Her mother’s voice brought her out of her thoughts and Clarke turned to face the screen. With teary eyes and shaky smile her mother waved hello.

“Hi.” Clarke’s response was little forced and quite awkward. The anger assaulted her almost immediately upon seeing her mother but Clarke forced herself to push it away. She needed to be clear-headed for the conversation.

Abigail cleared her throat. “Clarke, I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to end like that. Jaha promised to talk him out of it. I-… I’m sorry. I never intended to-“ Clarke watched her mother brush her tears away and she blinked her own away. She had to bite her tongue until she tasted blood to stop the flow of words that threatened to break free.

“I really am sorry.” Abigail’s chocked voice had Clare nodding in understanding.

“I don’t think I can forgive you.” Clarke continued to stare at the screen but she wasn’t really seeing it. The face of her mother was too much for Clarke to bear now. “At least not yet.”

Clarke was aware that she sounded cold and robotic but it was either that or the flood of feelings and thoughts would start roaming free and things would turn ugly rather fast. A tentative truce was all she could manage at the moment.

“It’s alright. We can talk more about it when I come down.”

“You’ll be on the first ship then?” Clarke latched on the opportunity to change the painful subject.

“Yeah, we’re charging it right now and making an inventory of the things that we would need and the ones you requested. In less than sixty hours we should be ready for a launch.” Less than three days to come to terms with the fact that maybe her mom didn’t intentionally killed her dad. Too soon.

But Clarke smiled anyway. “That’s good. We could use medical supplies around here.”

They talked a bit more, trivial stuff mostly concerning the camp and the forthcoming landing of more of the Ark people. But as her mother was no longer part of the Council her information wasn’t as detailed as they both wanted it to be.

Frankly, Clarke wasn’t ensnared with the seemingly harmless aura of the new Councilwoman, Diana Sydney. There was something fishy in her fake concern and she had been the only Council member so set on questioning and opposing hers and Bellamy’s leadership, decisions and supply demands. But Clarke kept that to herself, the Ark was of no concern to her now and besides, she had no influence over there. What were her measly assumptions against the word of an ex-Chancellor? As long as it didn’t affect negatively the hundred Clarke steered clear from Diana. She hated politics.

Their call ended rather abruptly – Jaha was about to start his speech for Unity Day. A fast goodbye with a promise to see each other soon and the connection went off.

Clarke helped few of the delinquents to take the screen outside and to plug it in so that they could all watch and hear the Chancellor.

And somewhere along the way Clarke felt lighter.

-

Bumping into Finn on the way out of the cargo pod was probably fate’s way to tell her to get it over with. No time like the present but Clarke wasn’t planning on having the conversation in hearing range of most of the hundred. And definitely not in range of Raven.

“Not happy about Unity Day?”

Finn looked at her. “It’s a big lie. All they talk about is how the twelve nations came together. But they seem to forget and ignore the fact that there used to be a thirteenth space ship that blew up and forced the others to come together to form the Ark.”

“History is written by the winners.” Clarke agreed with Finn. Every kid on the Ark knew the names and the flags of the twelve nations – Australia, Brazil, USA, China, France, Canada, India, Japan, UK, Russia, Uganda and Venezuela. But nobody knew which nation was represented by the thirteenth ship. It was scary how easily people forget and erase from their memories unfortunate events and try to cover them up with more pleasant ones. “But the fact that Unity Day is all about hope still stays strong. Look what came out of the bloodshed.” Clarke inclined her head towards the kids that had gathered to watch Jaha’s speech.

“But was there a need for the bloodshed in the first place?” His question was uncomfortably close to their current situation with the Grounders and looking at his eyes Clarke saw that that had been his intention in the first place. Finn still opposed the rifles.

Clarke sighed. “We need to talk.”

Her tone told him all he needed to know.

Finn glanced at the crowd and saw the glare on Raven’s face.

“Meet you in ten at the gate?” Clarke murmured in affirmation and left.

‘The gate’ was the main portal they used to come and go out of the camp. In total there were three but the other two doors were rarely used and well camouflaged. They build them just in case of an all out Grounders attack. The doors were small, well secured and unnoticeable unless you knew they were there and perfect for sneaking out under the enemy’s nose.

Clarke didn’t have to wait long – Finn barely took few minutes to reach her and they left the camp to take a short walk just outside the walls.

They stopped not far from the gate and Finn leaned back on one of the numerous trees surrounding them. His gaze made her feel uneasy.

She summoned her courage and bit the bullet. “What we had between us is now over, Finn.”

“You can’t tell me that I’m the only one who knows that what we started still has a chance.” A chance, really?

“You have Raven and you love her and she loves you back. And I” _have Bellamy now_ , “was at the right place at the right time. I was the person who helped you with your loneliness. Don’t ruin your relationship because of ‘what ifs’. Raven doesn’t deserve it.” Clarke crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Besides what I felt for you was fleeting. It will fade completely in couple of days.” It already had.

He looked so devastated and hurt. “Don’t be like that, Clarke.”

“It’s over, Finn.” And Clarke realised that it truly was. “Nothing good will come out of this.” She pointed at them. “The only thing we can do is turn over a new page and start fresh.”

He tried to touch her but Clarke stepped back. The pain of the rejection was evident in his eyes.

Clarke pushed onward. “We can still be friends. I would hate to lose your friendship.”

Finn ruffled his hair and took few steps in the direction of the camp, and then he stopped and turned around. “Yeah, fine, whatever.” He nodded at her and left.

Clarke cringed. Well, it was not like she was hoping for a miracle but she guessed that would have to do for now. Eventually, Finn will come around and see her point.

But for now she did all she could. The rest was up to him.

With that Clarke spun around and crashed into something hard, warm and unmoving. Looking up her heart skipped a beat. Bellamy.

“Want to tell me what this was about?” His voice sounded neutral; he had heard them talk.

The cat was out of the bag.

-

Bellamy had just finished his late breakfast and was amusing himself with overlooking the soon-to-be drunk teenagers when he noticed Finn and Clarke leaving the camp, with no weapons or guards to accompany them.

Without thinking about it much he had shouldered his rifle and went after them.

To say that the conversation he had eavesdropped on was a surprise would be a lie. Bellamy suspected that there was something between Finn and Clarke, the tension with Raven in the room was more than telling. But there was a difference between speculating and actually knowing.

The confirmation had hit him hard.

Bellamy was mindful of the fact that he had no right to judge Clarke and her previous relationships, not when he used to sleep with different girls every night, but she was his now even if she wasn’t aware of that. And the greedy monster inside of him demanded that she pays attention to him only. It was irrational but he wanted, _needed_ to be the only thing on her mind, the same way she was on his.

And damn it, he had liked the Spacewalker. But now he wanted to break Finn’s bones for ever laying his hands on his princess.

The one thing that prevented him from blowing up in anger and jumping to conclusions was Clarke’s implacability that things between Finn and her were over. 

“I’m waiting.” She bit her lip and Bellamy wanted to kiss her and soothe the abused flesh.

“You heard everything. What is there to say?”

But he wasn’t letting her off that easily. “You and Finn, princess?”

She cleared her throat and looked uncomfortable for a moment but then she gathered her wits and faced him. “Yes. But it was before Raven landed. I didn’t even know that he had a girlfriend in Space.” That explained her strong reaction at seeing him with another girl. His princess had been duped. Another reason to accidentally break something of Finn’s. “But it’s over now. It’s been over ever since I found out that he’s in a relationship with Raven.” It was her own way of assuring him that he had been and still was the only one since that first night in the life pod.

“Good.” Bellamy hugged her close. “Because I don’t play well with others.” With that he took her lips in a bruising kiss and asserted his dominance over her. She tasted sweet and smelled of nature and sunshine. She gave in to his demands and let her hands rest on his shoulders.

He wasn’t sure how ready she was to accept a relationship with him but Bellamy was ready to fight and show her the advantages of being with him. Plus, he could be really persuasive when he wanted.

Like now. Another long kiss and Bellamy regretfully pulled back. The pout on Clarke’s face earned her a small peck on the lips.

He let her go and offered his hand. “Let’s head back.” For a second he feared that she wouldn’t take his hand but she did and the triumph he felt was intoxicating. It was a small victory, but a victory nevertheless.

Clarke was happy. And it was all thanks to Bellamy.

Who knew that things would turn out like that.

-

It was few hours in the party when Octavia sneaked out. Lincoln had promised to come and see her at first chance and the younger Blake felt that most of the camp getting drunk was a wonderful opportunity to disappear for few hours without being seen or noticed.

But then again she should have been more careful.

Because of her giddy excitement she never saw Finn looking at her and following her at a safe distance.

No, all that mattered were the pretty white flowers and Lincoln’s heat as he kissed her and pulled her closer.

She belonged with him no matter what the others said about the Grounder.

-

Bellamy found her poking the communication devices.

“Still nothing?”

Clarke shook her head. “No, it’s still out.”

“Come on, I bet it’s nothing serious. Go have some fun, princess.”

Clarke checked the screen to see if it was connected correctly and gave up. Everything seemed in order and neither Raven, nor Monty had found a problem on their side. The signal had disappeared half-way through Jaha’s speech and Clarke found it disconcerting. But maybe she was overreacting.

“And what about you?” Clarke offered him a can that passed for a mug filled with Jasper’s latest alcoholic experiment. Chemists, they could make alcohol out of anything.

Bellamy led her outside and refused the drink, his rifle was still swung over his right shoulder.

“I think I’ll keep an eye on the security.”

Clarke rolled her eyes playfully at him. “I’m sure Miller can handle the situation for an hour or two.”

“Probably, if he wasn’t engaged in a drinking game over there.” Bellamy pointed one part of the having fun group and Clarke saw Miller’s trademark beanie.

“Leaving your second-in-command to have all the fun. How noble of you.” She clicked her tongue and laughed when he knit his brows in a mock frown.

“Go have a drink, princess. You look like you need one.”

“Trying to get me drunk to have your wicked way with me? Where did your decency go?” It was so easy to joke and flirt around with Bellamy now that she wasn’t avoiding any kind of interaction with him. 

“Do I have to remind you that I used to be from the bad guys? You know, I was a rebel and all that. Besides,” he leaned closer to her and purposely focused his gaze on her soft plump lips. “I don’t need to get you drunk to have my wicked way with you.” His words sent shivers down her back and the smug bastard smirked at her and backed off, leaving her hanging and awaiting the kiss that never came.

Just as she was about to express her dissatisfaction, Finn nearly ran into her.

“Clarke!” Bellamy tensed and the amusement he felt seconds ago bled to annoyance. “I need to talk to you.” Finn glanced at Bellamy. “Alone.”

She blinked at his windblown hair and heavy breathing; he had been in a hurry to get to her. “Lead the way.”

Finn turned around and went in the direction of the cargo ship. Clarke followed him but not before she threw one last reassuring smile at Bellamy.

He had nothing to worry about.

Bellamy watched her leave and his good mood instantly evaporated. So much for having a quiet, enjoyable night.

-

“What is it?”

Finn looked nervous all of a sudden. “I might have set up a meeting with the Grounders.”

“You- what-? Might have?” Talk about giving her a shock and she was worried that he will insist on them continuing their relationship.

“Okay.” He rolled his eyes. “I set a meeting with the Grounders and more specifically their leader.”

“How?”

“It doesn’t matter. You have to come with me. It’s our only chance.”

“A chance for what?”

“Peace maybe.” Finn was getting irritated. Didn’t Clarke see that this was their only opportunity to forge truce with the Grounders?

“Peace? With the Grounders? Finn, wake up. They nearly killed Jasper. Hell, you almost died because of them. Not to mention the people that died in the woods when you went to save Octavia.”

“That’s our side of the story. What if theirs is different? You said it yourself, Clarke, they function like we do. That means that we can reach consensus. When the first group of the Ark lands and brings soldiers and weapons do you really think that they will leave the Grounders alone? Of course not. They wouldn’t risk having hostile neighbours. It will turn to one of the many meaningless bloodsheds Earth has seen. And I think that there has been enough blood spilled on Earth. We don’t need another war.” 

Clarke stopped for a moment and really thought about it. If there was a shot to prevent more people from being killed then Clarke was obligated to try and make it work. And thinking about the information they could get, the things they could learn from the Grounders and vice versa – it was a risk worth taking.

“Okay. Let me get my stuff.”

“And Clarke? No weapons.”

“Tell me you’re kidding. Do you really think that they will come unarmed?”

“I promised no weapons.” Finn was being serious about this. Go figure.

“Fine.”

She split from him and went to take her backpack while Finn headed towards the gate.

The moment she saw Bellamy she changed her direction, grabbed his arm and dragged him with her.

“I’m off to meet the Grounders’ leader.” He stopped and forced her to face him.

“Are you crazy? That’s too dangerous even for your adventurous soul, princess.”

“I know. That’s why I need you to be my backup.” Fuck, she really was serious about going to that meeting.

“Who else is going? Finn?”

“Yes, he’s going to take me to the place of the meeting. Bring rifles.” Finn might have promised no weapons but she didn’t, not really.

Bellamy lifted his hand and caressed her cheek.

“You be careful now. No ridiculous or brave actions.”

“I will.” She pulled back and took few steps back.

“And Bellamy? Don’t hit first.”

Clarke went to fetch her things.

And Bellamy needed more bullets.

-

Under other circumstances Clarke might have found the forest captivating. But as it was she was tense, nervous and apprehensive of the upcoming meeting and the forest was just another obstacle she had to go through to reach her objective.

Not to mention that her heart skipped a beat every time she left some trail for Bellamy to follow. She was lucky that Finn was preoccupied with his own problems and thoughts and paid no attention to her skittish behaviour.

They walked in silence most of the time, it wasn’t exactly uncomfortable but it wasn’t carefree either.

By the time they had reached the meeting point it was in the early hours of the morning. And, oh hey, Octavia was waiting for them at the bridge. Why wasn’t Clarke surprised to see her here when it involved Grounders. Clarke was ready to bet that the Grounder they had captured and had later escaped was around here somewhere.

Just as Clarke thought that, something moved in the bushes on the other side of the bridge and said Grounder came out to welcome them. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Octavia ran to hug him and Clarke exchanged a bemused look with Finn who apparently knew about their now not so hidden relationship because he didn’t look surprised. At least now she knew how he had managed to arrange this meeting.

From the corner of her eye Clarke noticed moving silhouettes in the trees on the left side of the bridge but she didn’t turn around to check for sure, she didn’t want to drag unwanted attention in that direction. She just hoped that Bellamy wouldn’t do something rash.

They didn’t wait long. The sounds of clatter of hoofs brought her attention back to the other side of the bridge and Clarke stared in amazement. Horses! Real horses with no apparent mutations from the radiation. Incredible. After she had engraved the beautiful creatures in her mind did Clarke look up and met the gaze of the Grounders’ leader.

A woman. The guards on her sides were definitely scary looking and nightmare worthy. Not to mention their nasty looking armament.

 Now it made sense why Lincoln, as Finn had introduced him, wanted Clarke to meet his leader and not Bellamy.

 “So much for ‘no weapons’.” Clarke looked at Finn knowingly.

She and Finn both stepped forward but Lincoln pushed Finn back. “Only her.” He nodded at Clarke.

She had a bad feeling about this. Nonetheless, she smiled encouragingly at Finn and continued alone.

When she reached the middle of the bridge and stopped to wait for the Grounders’ leader, Clarke became uncomfortably aware of how exposed and vulnerable she was. This was the perfect place for an ambush and she was pretty sure that the enemy leader knew that.

Clarke was hesitant about standing there alone but she pushed that back and forced herself to appear confident and fearless as she waited for the woman to get down from her horse and come and meet her in the middle.

Dark blond hair with braids and eyes lined in kohl, black clothes made for battle and a stance that spoke of a warrior with lots of experience, arrogant and disparaging gaze and confidence that made her stand out even more – Clarke was sure that the woman in front of her was the wet dream of every Grounder.

And that set her even more on edge.

“Your name is Clarke?” It sounded more like a statement than a question but Clarke answered anyway.

“Yes.”

“I’m Anya.” Clarke realised that Anya was judging her and found her lacking. It made her bristle.

The beginning of this meeting wasn’t very promising.

And the refused handshake didn’t help with Clarke’s confidence at all.

“Look,” Clarke started, “I think we got off on the wrong foot. There are a lot of misunderstandings between us but we would like to overcome them and live together, in peace.”

“I see. You started a war you don’t know how to end.”

A war? “What? No!” This was not what Clarke hoped for. “We didn’t do anything. You’re the ones who attacked us first for no reason.”

“No reason? You burned a village to the ground with your missiles.”

“Missiles? We don’t have mis- those were signal flares. They were meant to-“

“Your ship is on our territory.” Territory, Anya had used the word territory but Clarke was going to worry about that later.

“We didn’t think that there were people who have survived the Cataclysm. We weren’t aware that this is your territory, less alone that you’re alive.” Anya was getting angrier and angrier and nothing that Clarke said was having a positive effect on the Grounder.

“But you knew we were here when you send armed people to capture one of our own and torture him.”

“He had a friend of ours.”

“These are all acts of war.”

Clarke tried not to panic, that was the last thing she had to do in this situation.

“You have a point. But in less than two days some of our people will come down to Earth and most of them will be soldiers, _warriors_ and they will have weapons beyond your imaginations. When they come here and see that we’re hostile towards each other they won’t sit still. They will come and try to kill you. We don’t need this senseless bloodshed. We can learn so much from each other, we can help each other. But we won’t be able to do that if we’re at war.”

“And you can guarantee that the newcomers won’t attack us and will follow the parameters of the agreement we set?”

Maybe there was hope after all.

“I promise I’ll do everything I can to convince them to honour the terms we set.”

“So why should I agree to an alliance that can be broken in two days?” The question was rhetorical.

“Because they will shoot first and ask questions later. You’ll be eradicated.”

“You won’t be the first ones to try. And fail.”

Clarke froze. Had she been actually right? “What? What do you mean by that?”

But before Anya could answer her, a voice shouted from bellow.

“Clarke! Run!”

Clarke turned to the side to see Jasper raising his weapon.

A moment later something hit her and Clarke stumbled back. Hot pain bloomed in her body.

-

“CLARKE!” Bellamy aimed his rifle and fired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill me for leaving you with a cliffhanger or I won't be able to post the next chapter as soon as possible! ;D
> 
> Apparently jealous!Clarke and possessive!Bellamy go hand in hand.
> 
> Most of the chapter followed the episode but the next one will have other things as well.
> 
> \- M.


	5. Crashing Hopes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the love <3  
> And sorry, Sidnei, it wasn't up for Sunday, haha.  
> Enjoy!

Thinking back on it taking Jasper with him hadn’t been his smartest idea as of late. Jasper’s near death experience with the Grounders and the trauma from it was bound to make him little bit trigger happy. Bellamy had counted on the fact that Jasper wouldn’t put Clarke or the others in danger and that his deep burning hate for the Grounders would make him more cautious.

But maybe too leery.

Because as Bellamy watched how another arrow nearly hit Clarke again he had to admit that they would never know if the Grounders really had been planning on attacking and ambushing them or if they had acted as support as Bellamy, Raven and Jasper were, and simply had reacted when Jasper shouted for Clarke to run and waved his rifle around.

Jasper’s paranoia might have cost them everything.

But – the Grounders’ leader took out a hidden dagger and went after Clarke and Bellamy carefully took aim and hit the blade making the knife shoot out of its owner’s hold – it didn’t matter much now. What was done was done. There was no turning back beyond this point. The only thing they could do was make sure that they got out alive of this clash. All of them.

Raven took out another Grounder and his body fell in the river that was running under the bridge. Jasper was providing cover for Finn, Octavia and the Grounder that had escaped recently. Bellamy was going to have a long talk with Octavia and her danger-seeking tendencies.

He turned his attention back to Clarke – she had just ducked out of the way of a long-ass spear and was slowly making her way back to the others, not once taking her eyes from the Grounders. What worried Bellamy more than her slow retreat was the arrow sticking out of her left side. From the angle he had Bellamy wasn’t able to pinpoint where had the arrow struck and it was worrying him immensely.

Another arrow near her foot made her slip and Clarke fell on her back. Bellamy could swear that he heard her scream of pain over the sound of firing guns. He gritted his teeth and continued shooting the bastards hiding in the trees and in the dense bushes on the other side of the bridge. They were neatly camouflaged and blended easily with the greenery around them.

Finn pushed Octavia back and ran to Clarke. He helped her up and Bellamy sighed in relief when Clarke turned around and walked back with Finn’s help. Thankfully, she wasn’t mortally wounded; the arrow wasn’t anywhere near her heart, it was lodged few inches below her left shoulder. The Grounder took an arrow meant for his sister and Bellamy felt begrudging respect for him in that moment.

In the meantime, the Grounders’ leader had reached her horse and took off in the woods. They were pulling back.

Bellamy made sure that he had given enough time to Clarke and the rest to get off the bridge and he, Jasper and Raven retreated as well.

The two groups met almost immediately and Bellamy focused on Clarke’s pale face and elaborated breathing. Her jacket’s sleeve had specks of blood and the red colour had spread around the wound. She winced every time the arrow moved, which happened to be every time she breathed in and out.

Bellamy swung the rifle on his right shoulder and took out his knife. A ripping sound later and little bit of tugging and his shirt was few inches shorter. With Finn’s help Bellamy tied the two ribbons of clothing bellow and over the arrow. He looked at the length of the arrow – it was too long.

“Clarke,” her pained blue gaze met his searching eyes. She knew. “I have to make the shaft shorter.” She nodded in understanding. They couldn’t take out the arrow now – they didn’t have that much time at their disposal nor the needed equipment to seal her wound.

Bellamy took her left hand and made her hug her abdomen and then did the same with her right. The less she moved the better.

He hated himself for the pain he was about to cause her. “Try not to scream.”

Bellamy gently but firmly grasped the shaft of the arrow where it was sticking out of her arm. He held it as steady as he could and snapped the rest off. Clarke’s whole body went rigid with pain and Bellamy could feel the near-violent tremors her muscles gave at the invading agony. Still, she held true and no sound left her mouth.

“You ok?” She gave a curt nod and her blond hair swayed with the motion.

“We have to go.” Her voice was little shaky but strong. They couldn’t afford to waste time.

Raven took the lead closely followed by Octavia and Jasper, Finn was in the middle and Clarke and Bellamy were in the back.

They ran all the way back home.

-

Clarke was dripping with exhaustion, her lungs were burning up from all the running and she felt dizzy. Her left side was throbbing with pain and her arm had gone numb from the elbow down. She had tried to keep her arm as still and as immobilized as she could but even the littlest of movements made the arrow inside her arm twitch and flood her senses with never-ending pain. The adrenaline that had fuelled her mobility in the beginning had dispersed hours ago and now the only reason why she hadn’t collapsed in fatigue yet was her sheer will and Bellamy’s steady presence behind her back.

Tired couldn’t even begin to describe her state in the moment.

“Keep moving, princess. We’re almost there.”

 How he knew every time she was about to give up and just flop on the ground, Clarke had no idea but was nevertheless grateful. Through the whole way back to camp he was constantly near her, encouraging her. Not once did he ask if she was fine because frankly it was pretty obvious that she was far from it. That didn’t mean that he ignored her condition, on the contrary – he let them have breaks as often as they could afford them. And when it was too risky, Bellamy would send the rest ahead and he would stay with Clarke for a minute or two so that she could gather some energy to keep moving.

All in all, Clarke was adamant that she would do everything possible to never get hit again. It was too much of a bother.

The whole group had slowed down to a semi-fast walk. They were all drained and weak, perspiration glinted along their skin and they were a lot dirtier than usual. Not that anyone gave a fuck about the last part. The mood was wretched and they didn’t waste any strength to pursue meaningless small talks.

The woods were dark but Finn had little trouble tracing their way back to camp. After a while fire lights glinted in the darkness in front of them and they reached the small clearing before the main gate. They were safe.

For now.

The group slowed down to a stop just before the gate. The torches glinted merrily in their direction. Clarke staggered and Bellamy supported her until she gained her balance back. Finn was glaring at them.

“You got something to say?” Bellamy’s nerves were fried as it was and Finn’s silent but obvious fuming was only igniting his anger further.

Finn glared harder and shifted his attention solely on Clarke. “I told you no guns.”

Clarke’s laugh was hollow and cynical. “Really, Finn?” She made a small motion with her head pointing to her injury. “It’s not like they came unarmed as they had promised either.”

“And why didn’t I know about this?” Raven’s shrill voice cut into the conversation.

“Well, I tried but you were too busy making bullets to pay any attention to what I said.” His disgust for the weapons they were carrying was undeniable.

“You’re lucky she brought that with her.” Bellamy’s words overshadowed Raven’s response. “You would have been dead otherwise.”

“You can’t possibly know that. Jasper was the person who raised his weapon first.”

Jasper didn’t appreciate being called out like that. He had saved them. He was the one to see the Grounders which had been hiding in the trees.

“You ruined everything.” Octavia’s words were cold and bitter and pierced right through his heart.

“I saved you!” Some gratitude he was getting.

Octavia didn’t even hear him out; she simply turned around and entered camp. Something broke inside of Jasper. He felt defeated all of a sudden; he never stood a chance with Bellamy’s sister it seemed. He wasn’t muscular or mysterious, he wasn’t a hunter and he couldn’t draw to save his life, he wasn’t the Grounder. He was just Jasper. But it wasn’t enough.

He refused to look at the others. Jasper simply made his way through the group and went to find Monty. Maybe some of the alcohol had still survived.

Raven and Finn continued bickering.

“Enough.” Clarke’s pained voice made them pause.

Finn turned to face her. “We might not have been at war before but we sure as hell are now. You just had to trust me, Clarke.” He pushed past her, careful not to brush against her shoulder and left with Raven hot on his heels.

Bellamy glanced at Clarke.

“Well, it could have been worse.” Bellamy’s dry amused tone had Clarke chuckling in mirth and then wincing when she aggravated her wound.

“We have to take care of that.” He nodded to the arrow.

“I know.” Clarke glanced at the twinkling starts. “We need to-“ her voice faded and she frowned.

Bellamy furrowed his brows in concern and tipped his head back to look at the sky. For a moment he thought he saw a falling star but the light glowed too brightly and moved too fast.

“The Exodus ship.” The Ark was early.

“No, this is wrong. They shouldn’t be here so soon.” Clarke was feeling uneasy. Something was wrong. “I talked to my mom in the morning, they needed more time to charge it and get everything ready.”

For a second Bellamy focused his attention on Clarke – she hadn’t told him about her conversation with her mother.

“Maybe they got lucky and finished early.” He sounded sceptical even to his own ears.

But the ship continued to fly towards the Earth surface at the same speed. It wasn’t slowing down. And no sign of parachute being opened.

“Something’s wrong.” Bellamy inched closer to Clarke as her body started shaking and it proved to be the right decision.

This ship crashed in the ground somewhere beyond their gazes but they could clearly see the explosion that followed. Clarke wobbled and Bellamy caught her around the waist before she could fall to the ground. For a moment everything stopped – time, pain, fear, nothing mattered. Only the slowly dying light of the crash.

Her mother was supposed to be on that ship.

Tears streamed down her cheeks.

She was going numb. 

Bellamy’s arms tightened around her midriff. “Clarke-“ But she didn’t want to hear what he had to say. She shook her head at him and broke free of his embrace; her legs were barely holding her up.

“We have to-“ she was on the verge of full out sobbing, “get people and check the crash zone.”

“Clarke-“

But she just kept on going.

“And we’re going to need guns and-“

“Princess, I-“

“-and torches and we have to contact the Ark and-“

Bellamy’s arm reached fast and grasper her upper left arm just below the arrow. Clarke cried out in pain and fell to her knees, Bellamy followed suit.

“Clarke, look at me.” She refused to meet his eyes. “Fine, then listen. We’re tired, it’s dark and we have no idea where exactly the ship crashed. Add the fact that we got into a war with the Grounders and our chances don’t look very bright right now. Plus, this” he indicated her wound, “is something that we need to take care of as soon as possible.”

She wanted to protest but Bellamy was right; she needed to think rationally about this. She couldn’t help her mom if she could barely stay awake.

Clarke forced herself to take a deep breath and clear her mind. She couldn’t put the cart before the horse. They had to do this in some kind of order to stand even the slightest chance at succeeding.

“Let’s get it over with then.”

Bellamy cracked a small smile – that was his princess, always brave.

He brushed her tears away, kissed her forehead and helped her stand.

They had people to take care of and order around.

-

In less than ten minutes the whole camp was on lockdown and the guards on duty were twice as many. They had no idea when would the Grounders attack and Bellamy wasn’t taking any chances. The rest of the hundred that were still awake or had been woken up because of the explosion were busy sorting through their supplies and putting aside enough for a searching expedition. There were people fortifying the walls as well.

After making sure that everything was running smoothly, Bellamy left Miller in charge and went to Clarke.

She was in the life pod where she had operated on Finn. She was sitting on the table and kicking back and forth her legs as if she didn’t have an arrow poking from her arm. A can filled with alcohol and another with seaweed sterilised water sat next to her. Few relatively clean white bandages and a dagger completed the scene.

Bellamy put down his rifle, dragged his jacket off and rolled his sleeves up. He had washed most of the dirt off his hands before coming here.

“What do you want me to do?” She stilled and blinked at him; she had been lost in her thoughts and hadn’t heard him entering.

“Sterilise your hands.” Bellamy grabbed the can and splashed some of the water over his hands, making sure to clean them thoroughly. After he was done with that he went back to Clarke and moved in between her open legs. This close he could see how tired she really was. Really, what a Unity Day.

“Now what?”

She reached with her right hand and grasped the handle of the dagger. There was no hesitation in her actions when she let him have the dagger.

“Cut the sleeves off.”

Bellamy frowned. “Shouldn’t I pull the arrow out first?”

“No, we can’t be sure I won’t start bleeding again and the clothes might turn out to be of inconvenience.” The arrow had over time slowed down the bleeding until eventually it had completely stopped. But as they had no idea how deep in the muscle it had gone, it was better not to risk too much bleeding.

He cut off the two ribbons first; they were soaked wet and had lost their previous dark colouring; all red now. Bellamy was meticulously careful with the blade in his hand as he slowly and gently cut the fabric around the arrow. First, he got the jacket sleeve and then her shirt one. Both were painted red with dried out blood in the area closest to the arrow. Her skin was swollen and purplish where the arrow had struck and stained with blood; Bellamy started disliking the colour immensely. Red didn’t suit Clarke. Her hand was twitching from pain but not once did Clarke flinch away from him.

Bellamy tossed the blood covered dagger on the table. “I pull it out now?”

Clarke closed her eyes and nodded. “Yes.”

His left hand carefully closed around her left upper arm and his right closed tightly around the shaft of the broken arrow. He was about to pull when her right hand landed on his chest to stop him.

Blue pained eyes met worried brown.

“If it starts to bleed you need to put some of the seaweed on it.” She motioned with her head to the left side of the table where a bunch of dry seaweed and a closed jar sat. That had escaped Bellamy’s initial survey of the room.

Bellamy hummed in agreement. “Ready?”

“Wait!” Her right hand was mostly steady when she grasped the can with Jasper’s latest alcohol experiment and she gulped down all of it in one breath. She grimaced at the aftertaste but it was making her world sway and the pain in her left side abated.

Clare had barely nodded her head in confirmation when Bellamy abruptly pulled the arrow from her arm. She chocked on her scream as agonising hot pain engulfed her left side and rapidly spread through her body. Her head fell forward on Bellamy’s shoulder and he held her as tears of pain rolled down her face. She was dimly aware of liquid being splashed on her wound and something dry and mossy being gently put over the injury.

They sat like that for a while until the overwhelming pain turned to a manageable constant throb in her arm. The alcohol helped in lessening the pain. Clarke took a shaky breath and raised her head, Bellamy’s face was unreadable but somehow she knew he was troubled because of her condition.

“Tell me what to do.” He couldn’t do this without her; he had no idea what he was supposed to do next. Does he wrap it up bandages? Cauterise it? Or maybe stitch it? He was pretty sure he was going to botch that up, Bellamy had no idea how to stitch but if that’s what she needed he was going to try his best.

“The arrow-“ Clarke had to clear her throat few times before she was able to speak somewhat normally again. “Show me the arrow.”

He did. Clarke carefully took it all in. It appeared that the sharp narrow head of the arrow was the only thing that actually had went in her arm, which was a good thing. It meant that her wound wasn’t very deep and she wouldn’t need to fear getting out splinters. Good, she absolutely abhorred the idea of getting something in her arm just to get something else out. She lightly pushed Bellamy’s hand away from her injury and inspected her wound. The entry wound wasn’t as big as she thought. Thankfully, the power behind the arrow hadn’t been that great and there was no exit wound. And judging by the lack of blood, it hadn’t hit any major blood vessel as well. The pain didn’t indicate a broken bone either; she had broken her right arm years back when she fell off one of the ventilation shafts in the Ark and the pain was different. If she was lucky the arrow hadn’t torn more than one or two of her muscle fibres and wouldn’t restrict the use of her left arm. She could stitch it shut but it will take no more than two stitches and right now she wasn’t seeing the point of feeling more pain to gain an inch of string in her arm. Cauterizing it would mean sticking incredibly hot blade in her wound and while it would seal shut her wound it might burn more of her muscle fibres. She frowned in thought. Bellamy splashed more of the seawater on the wound and she hissed at the stinging sensation. If only her mother was here.

Her mother. She was going to get her mother.

Until then, the method the Grounders used on Jasper would do.

“Clean it again and then put some of the seaweed paste on it.” Bellamy did as instructed and poured out all of the antibacterial water on her arm.

After that he opened the jar and applied a considerable amount of the paste on her wound, followed by a thick layer of dry seaweeds, all wrapped snugly with a bandage. Bellamy finished with a little bow and finally he felt relieved at having taken care of Clarke.

“How do you feel?” He wiped the leftover paste with one of the other bandages and placed his hands on the table, caging Clarke in.

“Sleepy.” And she looked sleepy, her eyelids felt heavy and she was about to nod off any moment now.

“Sleep then.” He tried to push her back to lay on the table but she stubbornly refused.

“No, we need to talk.”

“We’ll talk later; you need to sleep now, princess.” She protested but he kissed her and silently begged her to agree with him just this once. She needed all the rest she could get.

Clarke conceded. “Not here.”

He squeezed her fingers in thanks and helped her off the table.

The walk to his tent was slow and silent and by the time they had reached their destination Clarke was nearly asleep. Bellamy helped her out of her clothes and covered her with the furs he used for blankets. He got rid of his clothes as well and slipped under the covers.

Bellamy pulled Clarke closer, mindful of her injury, and closed his eyes. He needed to rest his eyes just for a bit.

He had work to do.

-

Clarke woke few hours later, feeling weak, sluggish and hungry. Her arm throbbed uncomfortably but it wasn’t the excruciating pain it had been in the beginning. She slowly turned around but there were no signs of Bellamy nearby even though the bed was still slightly warm where she was sure he had slipped in when she had dozed off.

A glance towards the somewhat opened tent flap showed her that it was still pretty early in the morning – it was dark outside but the light of the forthcoming sunrise was slowly taking over. There was a container with dirty water next to the bed and a flimsy wet material was placed next to it. Clarke raised her good arm and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Her fingers encountered clean skin and a light bulb went on in her head.

Bellamy had cleaned the grime and the dust off her at some point.

She had no recollection of that.

Just as she was thinking of getting up and out of the bed Bellamy walked in. He was carrying food and Clarke’s stomach rumbled.

He laughed and she chuckled weakly in return.

“Morning, princess.”

“Hey.” He took off his shoes and climbed on the bed bringing all the food with him.

“Feeling better?”

Clarke rose and wrapped the furs tightly around herself to ward off the morning chill. She chose few ripe apple-like fruits and bit impatiently into one of them. It was sweet with a slight tart taste. It was delicious and it didn’t make them hallucinate.

“Much.” She took another bite and really looked at him. He looked better than last night; little haggard but very determined. “You?”

He arched one of his eyebrows and smirked. “I have never slept better.” Clarke rolled her eyes at his teasing and went back to devouring the food.

They ate mostly in silence and when they were done Bellamy disposed of the remains and got under the furs. Clarke wriggled around for a bit and snuggled into him; her head was tucked securely under his chin and laid comfortably on his shoulder. His arms encircled her waist and hugged her closer.

“What happened?” Her voice was a whisper, it didn’t feel right to break the peaceful atmosphere they were having. He started playing with her hair.

“I went to grab more ammo for my gun and Raven and Jasper were in the tent. I had no time to come up with a plausible excuse, not if I wanted to follow you and Finn as close as possible, so I took them with me. I figured that three are better than one.”

She felt him sighing. “We were all on edge when the Grounders came to meet you and half way in your conversation Jasper noticed the Grounders in the trees and I think he freaked out or something. They had weapons and were clearly targeting you but there’s no way to tell now if they were planning on taking you out or if they were providing backup in case you pull a weapon at their leader.”

“Anya, her name is Anya.” She listened to his steady heartbeat for a moment. “So either Jasper saved my life or he botched up our only hope for peace.”

“No matter what we’re at war with them now.”

“At least now it’s official.” Bellamy’s hand in her hair stopped its petting.

“What do you mean official?”

“Anya said that we have started a war the moment we landed here. That this is their territory and we’re trespassers. Doesn’t help that we captured Lincoln and tortured him. Plus, she accused us in trying to burn down a village with our signal flares.”

“We weren’t even aware that Earth was inhabitable; let alone have actual people living here.” He ruffled his hair in frustration. Their problems were piling up with frightening speed. “Wait, did you say territory?”

“Yes, that what she called it. Territory.”

“Great, then the river is no boundary at all.”

“No, and Bellamy?” She lifted her head to look him in the eyes. “When I told her that our people will do everything to wipe them out she said we would not be the first ones to try.”

Cold dread filled his veins. “Are you sure?” she nodded. “Fuck.”

Clarke wholeheartedly agreed.

It meant that there was somebody or something else here. And that wasn’t good.

“The Ark-“

“Raven and Monty tried. The Ark is not responding. The problem is not on our side. It’s like there’s no one out there to receive our signal.” He didn’t want to worry her but he knew she would appreciate his honesty.

“We are checking the ship?” It was supposed to be a statement but it came out as a question.

“We are going to wait few more hours and we’re going to organise a searching party. We’re going to find them, Clarke. We’re going to save her.” He tightened his embrace reassuringly and laid a kiss on her cute nose.

She smiled; his single-minded drive was contagious.

They had survived this long and they were going to overcome this too.

They were going to find her mother and kick some Grounders’ butt in the meantime.

She kissed him and put her head back on his chest and closed her eyes.

Clarke was going to need all the energy she could get.

Bellamy kissed the crown of her head.

He vowed to do everything possible to protect her.

Everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nurse!Bellamy to the rescue, haha, to make your Mondays better ;D  
> Hopefully, I made the whole arrow situation plausible.  
> \- M.


	6. Trojan Horse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many things happened in this episode.. And I knew that Murphy would have made an appearance in the show again! haha  
> Thanks to everyone that left me kudos, subscribed, bookmarked or left me a lovely comment! <3  
> On with the show!

Clarke didn’t want to get up. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept so well.

She hadn’t really fallen fully asleep since their last conversation but a few short naps here and there had been enough and she felt well rested despite the dull throbbing pain in her arm.

The steady rise of Bellamy’s chest under her head made her smile. His arms were still around her form and their grip hadn’t slackened even after he had fallen asleep. It felt good to be held like that. Clarke was feeling safe, treasured and as if she belonged right here, with Bellamy. 

And what a turn of events that was.

But she had waited long enough while watching the morning light slowly take over. They needed to leave soon if they wanted to make it to the crash zone and back to camp before dark. It was too risky to be outside the walls at night. The Grounders could retaliate whenever they felt like it. And Clarke was pretty sure that they would want to get even because of the bridge accident.

She didn’t really want to get up but she needed to find her mom. Now.

Clarke glanced at Bellamy’s face – he looked so young and innocent in his sleep, his features were relaxed and there was a slight curve to his lips; gone was the arrogance, the cocky smirk, the commanding aura. Gone was the burden of shooting the Chancellor, the nearly unbearable weight of feeling guilt for floating those people. Though that last thing didn’t rest on his shoulders only. The Chancellor had made that decision, the Council had voted ‘yes’. But that didn’t stop him from feeling responsible for it.

Clarke carefully lifted her head trying not to wake him up and laid one soft kiss on his stubble covered cheek. It was slightly scratchy but it added to his overall rugged, rebel look.

With that she painstakingly slow pulled his hands apart and shifted closer to the edge of the bed. Just as she was about to get up and grab her clothes his husky voice stopped her in her tracks.

“I didn’t take you for the sneaky type, princess.” Bellamy rolled on his side and blinked open his eyes. The furs shifted and exposed his naked chest.

Her heart skipped a beat when he sent a lazy smile her way. “Hi.” And she wanted to slap herself. _Way to go, Clarke, you sound very intelligent._

“Hi to you too. What time is it?”

Clarke glanced down at her watch.

“Almost eight.”

Bellamy sat up in his bed and ruffled his already shaggy hair even more. “I should gather the crew then. We have to leave soon.”

Clarke smiled in agreement and slowly pulled her clothes on. Her left hand wasn’t very cooperative on the matter and Clarke stifled a groan of pain when the material got stuck on her wound.

A moment later an additional set of hands were helping her with her shirt.

“Thanks.”

“How’s your arm?”

Clarke scratched cautiously over the bandage, it was starting to itch. She turned to face him.

“It’s getting better.”

He thoroughly evaluated her words and when he deemed them trustworthy, he bestowed her with a small playful crook of his lips. It wasn’t a full smile but Clarke still felt humbled to being able to witness this almost tender side of his. He was so handsome when his whole face was lit up with happiness.

“We need to find you some new clothes though.” Clarke looked at her cut off sleeve. Her jacket had met the same fate.

“There are few clothes in the cargo ship with the extra blankets. I’ll go check it out.”

With that Clarke tied her shoes, grabbed her now useless jacket and stood up. She was nearly at his tent flap when his words put a stop to her actions once more.

“Where’s my good morning kiss?”

Clare rolled her eyes and mentally said ‘hello’ to the self-confident Bellamy. She backtracked to his bed and kissed him slowly on the lips, pulling back when he tried to deepen it.

“Morning.” She threw her own sassy smirk at him and left his tent.

The day looked promising.

-

Clarke hissed in pain when she unwrapped the bandage and peeled off the dry seaweed layer. It had gotten slightly stuck to the paste-like consistency bellow and when she took it off it pulled at her skin.

She was back in the medbay as the hundred had come around to call it. It made sense since she stored all of her medical supplies here and treated the wounded, which thankfully weren’t all that much. Nowadays, Clarke was extremely grateful that she had decided to go with a medical apprenticeship under her mother’s tutelage while still on the Ark. It was quite useful and vital to the survival of the hundred.

Clarke got rid of all of the dry seaweed and dipped a clean rag in the water next to her. Very carefully she wiped off the seaweed paste – the skin underneath was dark blue, nearly purple with green and yellow towards the ends. The small puncture wound sat in the middle of the colourful field and pulsed in pain when the Clarke went over it with the wet cloth. The skin of the wound had come together and had formed a tentative, easily breakable scab and that was good news for Clarke.

After she was done getting rid of the dried out paste, Clarke repeated the steps from last night and applied it again, followed by a layer of dry, pressed tightly seaweed and the bandage. She was in the process of thinking how exactly she was going to tie the two ends together when someone entered the medbay.

She shifted to see who the newcomer was and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw it was just Raven. After all, Clarke didn’t fancy the idea of being seen half-naked by a guy. Well, with the exception of Bellamy. She had gone beforehand to the cargo ship and had managed to find an appropriate shirt and suitable jacket for her small frame. Inside the medbay Clarke had taken off her ruined shirt and was changing her bandage dressed only in her dark jeans and her bra.

Raven came to a stop when she noticed her and arched a brow at her choice of attire.

“Need help?” She asked when she noticed Clarke’s struggle with the bandage.

“Yes, I could use some.”

Raven approached her and tied the two ends of the bandage. Clarke watched her as she worked and couldn’t help but think that if the circumstances were different the two of them could have been friends. But maybe that bridge hadn’t burned down yet.

“I talked with Finn the other day.” Raven froze and her demeanour suddenly changed, it got colder and more distant. The tone Clarke had used left no doubt in Raven’s mind about what exactly the two of them had talked about.

The dark haired girl busied herself with putting the supplies back in their places and throwing out the used seaweed. She was washing the paste off the cloth when Clarke continued.

“There’s nothing between us anymore, Raven.” Clarke paused for a moment, Raven was avoiding her gaze. “I’m so sorry about what happened between Finn and I. I really didn’t know that he was taken, that he had a girlfriend in Space and I’m not the kind of person to continue to pursue somebody when he has already been spoken for.” Raven dipped the cloth in the container one last time and squeezed the excess water, and then she lifted her head and looked back at Clarke. They had nearly the exact same conversation few days ago.

Clarke took a deep breath and summoned her courage; Raven’s unimpressed and bored face weren’t really helping her explain the situation. “What I’m trying to say is that what I felt for Finn turned out to be a passing fancy. It might have been more but the fact that he lied to me and in turn betrayed mine and respectively your trust shot down any romantic feelings I might have had. If it helps ease your mind,” Clarke hesitated for a moment. “I’m currently involved with somebody else. It happened fast and I didn’t expect it, nor was I actually seeking that kind of thing so soon but that person made me realise that I really didn’t know Finn well enough to have deeper feelings for him.” Why was she trying to explain her crazy puzzling relationship with Bellamy? A relationship which Clarke wasn’t sure was a relationship. Oh, yes, to placate Raven.

“I’m not going to try and steal Finn from you. He loves you and you love him, and frankly, I have no right to come between you two. That’s what I told him. It’s over. You have nothing to worry about.”

Raven kept staring at her and Clarke fought the urge to shift her weight from one foot to the other and appear sincere, which she really was. Finding her words to be truthful, Raven nodded once.

“I appreciate that.” With that the mechanic dropped the rag next to the container and made her way to the exit of the cargo ship. “You should get dressed, Bellamy said that we’re leaving in ten.” And then Clarke was alone in the medbay.

Maybe it wasn’t too late for some bridges to be mended.

-

The first thing that Clarke witnessed when she left the medbay was Bellamy, who was shouting orders left and right. Commanding others suited him, it was something he had a natural flair for. 

In front of him stood a group of around ten-eleven people, all armed and awaiting further orders. Some of them had ropes made out of lianas wrapped across their chests; others had small provision bags on their backs.

Clarke approached Bellamy and waited for him to finish his explanation to Monty about what exact traps he wanted the rest of the hundred to build while the rescue team was away.

“No can do, Bellamy. We’ll exhaust our accumulator that way. It’s not powerful enough to support a wired electrical barrier. Plus, we don’t have enough wire or power to make the pain worth it.”

“But doesn’t the battery recharge by itself?”

“It does but it uses solar power to do that and most of the energy it gathers goes towards keeping the connection with the Ark open and making sure that the shuttle is lit throughout the whole day. If we let the electricity flow through the walls we’ll be in the dark. No communication, no light in the life pod. We are going to need an amplifier if we want to produce more electricity or at least a second battery. Rocket fuel might work too for a while but it’s dangerous to use it around electricity. I would rather not risk it.”

Bellamy looked troubled for a moment. “Ok, forget about that. Focus on making signal traps around the main gate and as many ditches as you can while it’s still early. Miller!” Said guy was at his side in a second. “I want all eyes open. Constant vigilance and nobody leaves the camp without a guard or a weapon and only if they have a valid reason.” Which basically meant never. “Help Monty set the traps and find Jasper. Ask him if he can mix up something more dangerous than alcohol. Though, come to think of it, maybe we can set on fire that too if it comes to it.”

With that Bellamy dismissed them and turned around.

“Ready?” He asked Clarke when he saw her.

“Got everything I need.” She patted the small backpack that was hanging from her right shoulder. Inside there was a pot of seaweed paste, dry seaweed, lots of bandages, antibacterial water, a needle and a ball of thin string. The knife tucked in the front pocket of the bag completed her medical supplies.

She just hoped to find someone, _anyone_ she could use the supplies on.

The smoke from the crash landing was still visible in the sky and it was their guiding beacon to the Exodus ship.

“Good. Alright people,” He addressed the rescue group. “You know what to do. Stay in formation like I taught you and keep your ears open. If you see something suspicious come and tell me. I don’t want unnecessary shooting. We’re short on bullets as it is. Let’s go.”

The group moved as one and formed two circles with Bellamy and Clarke in the centre. On the way out of the camp Raven and Finn joined them, leading at the front. Finn was their tracker, making sure that the group didn’t encounter a nasty trap or a Grounder. Clarke and Finn were the only two not wearing guns.

The trek to the crash zone was uneventful and didn’t take very long.

But what greeted them there tore apart their last hopes for help and salvation.

Now more than ever they were on their own.

-

 

Clarke slowly made her way around the still burning debriefs.

The smell of burned metal was everywhere in the air, it irritated her rhinopharynx and stung her lungs. Her eyes were tearing because of the smoke. Or maybe it was because of the carnage around her.

Everything had burned.

The crash of the Exodus ship had created a crater, the depth of which was eight-nine feet and the diameter was around two hundred.

Two of the six turbines were the largest parts of the ship that had survived relatively unscratched. Metal doors and constructions littered the smoking ground. The earth beneath Clarke’s feet crunched with every step she took. The skin of the ship had taken the worse of the fall and of the burning of Earth’s atmosphere yet it was the one thing that Clarke saw most often if one didn’t count the bodies.

Burned black skeletons were everywhere. Some were still smoking, some were missing a head, some were crushed to powder.

There were no survivors. 

She looked around – she was in the centre of the crash – there was nothing here. No one. They had all burned to death.

Her mother had burned to death.

Clarke willed her tears back. The pain in her arm was nothing compared to the pain in her heart.

What a cruel reality she lived in.

Bellamy hovered uncertainly few feet behind her. What was one supposed to say in a disastrous situation like this? 

The rest of the group continued searching the smoking ship remains. Raven and Finn were looking for the black box containing the hardware of the ship. If they were lucky to find it, it was supposed to explain why the ship crashed and provide them with answers as to why had the Ark cut off their communication.

“She shouldn’t be here.” That was Finn and both Raven and Bellamy looked at him; both weren’t happy at the fact that Finn was staring at her.

“Her mother was supposed to be on this ship. It’s only natural that she would like some explanation about _this_.” Raven waved her hands around to indicate the mess around her.

And Raven wanted answers as well. Abigail Griffin was the reason why she was on Earth, why she was together again with Finn, her only family. Raven had to find out what had gone wrong. She owed the ex-Councilwoman at least that much.

“How’s the perimeter?” Bellamy inquired of the closest guy that was on guard duty.

“All clear.”

Finn snorted at the gun the guy was holding and turned his attention back to Clarke.

Bellamy’s patience with Finn was getting really short really fast the past few days.

“You have a problem?” Bellamy nearly snarled at Finn.

“Maybe if you hadn’t brought guns we-“

Raven was about to interrupt the fight when she noticed Clarke inspecting a damaged turbine. A turbine that was supposed to hold fuel. Clarke leaned closer.

“Clarke, stop!”

Clarke turned around and backed off from the turbine when she saw Raven running in her direction.

“Rocket fuel?”

“Hydrazine. Highly unstable when it’s not in its solid form.” Raven squatted to the turbine, dipped a small rock in the puddle the flammable liquid had created and smiled mischievously at Clarke.

“Look.” She turned to face one of the still burning fires. “Fire in the hole!”  And with that she threw the rock in the fire.

The following explosion spooked all of them. That substance was too dangerous sitting around like this.

“We need to clear the area. This thing can explode any moment now.”

Bellamy shouted to the group to fall back.

“Raven?” The mechanic looked at Clarke. “Can we drain the hydrazine or is it too dangerous?”

“Well, if we keep it away from fire, gunpowder and basically anything that can ignite a spark and make it go off I guess we can. Why?” Clarke bit her lip and Raven came to a sudden realisation. “You want to use it against the Grounders.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Making a potential bomb doesn’t sit well with me. After all, look where the nuclear war brought us. But I just think we have to keep all of our options open.”

Raven nodded. “I can gather the liquid but I’ll need my suit. Better be safe than sorry.”

“Later then.”

With one last look around the crash scene Clarke hardened her heart and marched to the group that was waiting for them.

-

Octavia was nervous and worried. She hadn’t had the chance to sneak out earlier to check on Lincoln thanks to Bellamy’s strict orders.

And now that white flower was staring right back at her and tempting her, urging her to step outside the walls.

Jasper’s bragging in the background didn’t help her dark mood at all.

Only Monty’s cheerful disposition was the reason why she hadn’t taken off yet. Well that and the fact that there was an armed juvenile delinquent on every step along the way, on every gate.

It had gotten dark and the rescue team was still out. Without their two leaders the hundred were agitated, nervous and scared shitless. Miller, Connor and Derek were doing all they could to keep the rest calm but it wasn’t very efficient.

Just as Octavia was ready to go and shut up Jasper’s mouth something activated the tripwire and the sound of empty cans brought silence over the whole camp.

Octavia’s heart started beating faster. Lincoln.

A gunshot. And then another.

What if that was Lincoln? What if he had come to check on her because she had ignored the flower and hadn’t gone to see him?

The commotion was big when the guards opened the main gate and Octavia slipped through the opening and was the first one out.

“Wait! Octavia!” Somebody called after her but she needed to check, to see.

The figure huddled to the ground was smaller than Lincoln. It was also covered in blood and dirt and when Octavia approached him the person jumped back and brought his hands to cover his head.

This wasn’t really happening.

One bloodshot eye was staring at her.

 _Murphy_.

-

They had barely reached the camp when Connor came out running.

“Bellamy!”

Bellamy looked at Clarke, who was walking by his side, and made his way to Connor.

“What is it?”

“Murphy. Murphy is back.”

Worried whispers broke inside the group. Bellamy motioned to Clarke to follow him.

“Show me.”

They entered the main shuttle. Murphy was huddled up in one of the corners on the first level. Derek had a rifle pointed at his blood-matted hair. The blood from his face injuries had coagulated and formed a grotesque vision compared to Murphy’s previous healthy visage. His right eye was swollen and closed shut. His shirt was torn and exposed more wounds and blood.

“We found him trying to sneak back into camp. He triggered the tripwire. He said that he was running from the Grounders.”

“Any signs of them?” Connor shook his head ‘no’ at Bellamy’s question.

“Everyone except Derek and Connor out.” Some of the people in the room hesitated. “Now!” Bellamy’s voice brooked no argument.

Clarke used the time while the people were getting out to observe Murphy. He had clearly undergone torture. And the Grounders hadn’t been lenient about it. Clarke didn’t want to think what might happen if she was to be captured. Anya was probably going to have her head at first opportunity.

The moment everyone was out Bellamy raised his gun.

“No!” Everyone else except Finn. He halted in front of Bellamy’s rifle. “We can’t just kill him!”

“Like hell we can’t! We hanged him, we banished him and now we’re going to kill him. He shouldn’t have come back.”

Finn tried really hard not to roll his eyes. “Yeah, because he had somewhere else to go. If he is telling the truth and the Grounders held him captive then he can tell us things about them.”

“Get the hell out of my way.”

Clarke barely kept track of the conversation. She was too busy studying Murphy. Even his nail fingers were torn out. She went around Bellamy and put her hand on his rifle, bringing it down in the process.

“Look at him, Bellamy.” She inched closer to Murphy and carefully turned one of his bloodied hands to show Bellamy. “He’s not lying. He should stay.”

“You and the Grounders should compare notes.” Bellamy gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to break Finn’s nose.

Instead he turned his ire to Murphy.

“What did you tell them about us?”

“ _Everything._ ”

That didn’t bode well for anyone.

Clarke was dragged out before she knew it.

“Are you out of your mind?” Bellamy was beyond angry, he was livid. “He’s the reason why Charlotte is _dead_.”

“We’re at fault for that as well. We were ready to hang him for a crime he didn’t commit. And then we refused his justice because… because it was _Charlotte_. And she was a kid and we couldn’t watch her die. But we weren’t going to punish her either.” Clarke wanted to reach out and touch him but maybe that wasn’t the best idea at the moment. “If we have rules, Bellamy, they should be mandatory for everyone, no exceptions. She killed Wells.”

Bellamy closed his eyes. The truth hurt. He had seen Octavia in Charlotte and he had tried to protect her the same way he had Octavia. But it didn’t work out the way he wanted it.

_The only thing that matters is what you do about it. Fears are fears. Slay your demons while you’re awake. They won’t be there to get you when you’re asleep._

“He stays until he gets better and then he’s out of here again.”

Clarke bit her lip and was about to object when Finn butted in their conversation.

“And what if he doesn’t want to be banished again?”

Bellamy paid him no attention. He was looking right at Clarke and uttered the words one by one.

“Then _I_ _kill_ him.”

Clarke gave him an uncertain nod and he left to find Miller. If the Grounders were after Murphy then they might hit soon.

Clarke glanced at the shuttle where Murphy was held.

The crisis was averted for now.

But she couldn’t help but wonder if they had done the right thing.

Everybody deserved a second chance.

But a leopard can’t change its spots.

-

Clarke wasn’t feeling good about the whole thing. First the Ark going dark, then the ship crash and the lack of life around it, and now Murphy.

And the yesterday morning had promised a good day.

She had been busy tending to Murphy nearly the whole night. If they wanted answers they needed him alive. Needless to say that Bellamy hadn’t been happy about that and had been on guard duty in the shuttle most of the time. He had gone to sleep two-three hours ago when Clarke was done with Murphy and had urged her to do the same. She was tired, that was true. But keeping her hands doing something and her mind occupied was the only way of stopping the pain from losing her mom completely overwhelm her.

She needed Bellamy and his safety but she had to stay strong. And falling in his embrace would only serve to unleash the raging pain lodged deep inside her heart. And her tears could wait. They had a war to survive. And hopefully win.

Clarke changed her bandage again – she was getting better at doing that herself – and went to check the communication tent. Maybe her luck would smile upon her.

She found Raven inside.

“Oh, hi. I just wanted to check-“ The last time she spoke with her mom flashed in her mind and Clarke felt the tears gather in her eyes. “Anything?”

“No, I tried everything. There’s just no signal from their side.”

Clarke made a jerky motion with her head and turned around to leave the tent. Raven frowned at her back.

“How are you holding, Clarke?” The blond haired girl froze in her tracks and cleared her throat to get rid of the fist that was squeezing her heart and stopping her words.

“I have definitely been better.” She even managed to let a small laugh.

Her head felt heavy and her left arm twitched with pain. She felt lethargic all of a sudden and Clarke thought that maybe it was about time she follows Bellamy’s advice and goes to sleep.

“Your mother was a-“ Raven broke off her sentence and her eyes widened in shock.

Clarke felt something warm cascade down her cheeks. Great, she couldn’t hold back her tears. She lifted her hand to brush them off and her fingers encountered something of a thicker consistency than tears. A flash of red and she watched the drops of blood make their way down her fingers. She was bleeding. From her eyes.

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Clarke!” Connor’s voice brought her out of the tent. “I’m down with something.” He was coughing blood and staggered weakly towards Clarke.

Raven had followed her out of the tent to give her a wet cloth to get rid of the blood when she spotted Connor.

“Clarke, wha-?”

“Go wake up Bellamy. And gather everyone that had had contact with Murphy. Now. And Raven? Don’t touch anyone.”

Raven didn’t waste any time and ran to get Bellamy.

Thousand thoughts circled in Clarke’s mind. Was it possible?

She heard more coughing and saw Derek. He was bleeding from the eyes, just like her.

Yes, it was.

“Come on, Connor, get up.” She went to help the dark skinned guy and they slowly made their way to the shuttle. People gathered around them but Clarke told them to stay back and not to touch her or Connor. Or Derek for that matter. Basically anyone with the symptoms they were displaying.

Once inside she left Connor resting against the wall of the dropship and went to Murphy waving off the guard in the process.

“Murphy?” She prodded him few more times until he opened his good eye. In the next moment she had to scramble back when he started throwing up blood. The view was unpleasant but she needed answers.

When he was done heaving Clarke tried again. “How did you escape?”

Steps behind her informed her of somebody’s arrival but she didn’t turn around to see who it was.

“Stay back!” The person pulled to a halt. “Murphy, answer me!”

He rested against the ladder. “I sneaked out. They forgot to lock me up.”

Clarke felt sick and that had nothing to do with her current condition. She turned around and met the concerned brown eyes of Bellamy.

“They are not that stupid. They let him go on purpose. Biological warfare. A virus.” She looked back at Murphy. “And we let it in.”

Bellamy came closer and Clarke moved away.

“Don’t. It spreads through touch. One of us has to be able to look after the others.” _One of us has to survive._ She didn’t say it but it was clear as day.

Bellamy didn’t like that. Hell, he outright hated it.

He should have killed Murphy on sight.

“Princess-“

The tent flaps were pushed away and more sick people entered the shuttle. Connor and Derek so far were the worst cases with a girl called Alicia close behind.

“Find out who else had contact with Murphy when they brought him in and bring them here. This, whatever it is, needs to be quarantined.”

Bellamy wanted to hug her, to hell her that everything was going to be okay, to kiss her and wake up from this awful dream. Just mere days ago she had been hit by an arrow and she had lost her mother the next day. And now she was down with a virus they knew nothing about.

He only wanted her to be safe. Was it really that much to ask?  

But right now his actions would mean more to her than his empty words.

“I will.” He had to make sure that Octavia hadn’t come in contact with anyone infected. “And Clarke? I’m right here and you’re not going anywhere.” Bellamy counted her grateful smile as a small victory in the ‘win Clarke over’ contest.

With one last hateful glance at Murphy, Bellamy left the shuttle.

He had promised his princess help and he was going to make sure she got it.

And then some more.

Bellamy shook his head.

They had their own personal fucking Trojan horse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The episode had so many things happening at once that I had to end it somewhere and see what I can take and how I should use it. Sorry if you find it little bit lacking and following the TV show too closely. The action will be packed in the next chapter though.  
> Was I the only one not misled by Murphy's innocent act?  
> Thank you for reading!  
> \- M.


	7. Payback Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is it that I always upload stuff at 4am? I really have no logical explanation about this.  
> Anyway, here is the next chapter.  
> Mind you, this one hasn't been checked over so there might be some mistakes. I'll look for them tomorrow, I guess I'm kinda sleepy right now ;D  
> Enjoy!

Octavia.

He had asked Miller about the people who had found Murphy first.

He had to find Octavia.

Why did his sister have to be the first one to find that weasel? Couldn’t she stop and listen to him for a minute? Damn it, he did so many things to protect her and make sure that she was safe but that ungrateful brat didn’t even appreciate his efforts.

Really, he had raised her better. This whole ‘I’m no longer in a cage I can do whatever the hell I want’ thing was seriously getting on his nerves.

Clarke was sick.

If Octavia was sick as well Bellamy was sure that he was going to flip and do something stupid and potentially dangerous. Something like going on a killing spree. 

Bellamy quickened his walk and went to check her tent next. So far she hadn’t been around the main gate or with Jasper or Monty. And the longer he was taking to find her, the more agitated he was getting.

Finally, her tent was right in front of him and Bellamy marched right in it. She was laying on her bed looking at something that suspiciously reminded him of the yellow pages in the Grounder’s little notebook. Octavia’s hasty removal of the book from his view only served to confirm his thoughts.

And did she have to be so captivated by the enemy?

“Octavia, you feel alright?” His harsh tone made the slightly guilty and panicked look leave her face and she looked confused for a moment.

“I- yes.”

“Murphy.” Now he was seriously making her confused. “Did you touch him?”

“No. Yes. Maybe, I don’t know. I believe I did.” Bellamy’s heart froze. Not her too. “Why? What’s going on?”

“The Grounders infected him with something and let him come back to us. He’s a walking virus. All who have had contact with him are down with it. Come on.” He reached forward to pull her up.

“Wait, where are we going?” Bellamy barely gave her enough time to put on her jacket and hide Lincoln’s sketches in her improvised pillow. 

“To the shuttle. Clarke will take a look at you.” The way he said Clarke’s name made Octavia pause for a second – he sounded frustrated and angry but also extremely worried and frightened. Usually, he would be like that when Octavia was in some kind of a danger.

“She’s infected, isn’t she?” The moment she said it Bellamy’s shoulders got stiffer and his grip on the gun he was holding tightened until his knuckles got white from the strain.

“Yes, she was one of the first to display the symptoms.”

Octavia bit the inside of her cheek to stop the flood of questions. There was so much she wanted to know especially about what had changed between Clarke and her brother for him to sound so troubled because of the blond but for once she kept quiet. The situation was getting morbid fast and Bellamy probably wouldn’t appreciate her insistent probing into their business.

The walk to the shuttle was brisk and Octavia started to notice more and more freaked out people pointing at the main ship and whispering nervously. The energy surrounding the hundred was buzzing with fear and it was making Octavia tense.

The rifles were being clutched close by their owners and the constant exchange of looks drowned with suspicion set everyone on edge.

Including Bellamy. 

He was quite aware of the rising discontent and fear among the still healthy part of the hundred and he was planning on doing something about it. After making sure that Octavia wasn’t about to get sick.

Thankfully Miller was alright and in Bellamy’s stead was keeping an eye on those people who were still guarding the walls.

The moment they entered the shuttle Bellamy’s already anxious heart fell to his stomach. For the fifteen minutes he had been gone the ship’s first level had filled up and Derek had gotten worse.

Clarke was bent over his form and was trying to stop his erratic movements. Derek was having some sort of seizure and blood was leaking copiously from his mouth and nose. Clarke tried to turn him on his side and help him breath but a flailing arm of Derek’s made her step back in surprise. A moment later and everything was over. Unnatural silence overtook the shuttle as everyone watched as Clarke checked Derek’s pulse.

“He’s gone.” Her words were quiet and lacked the usual fortitude.

As one the sick teenagers backed as far away as they could from Derek’s still warm corpse. Coughing and the smell of blood filled the air. Bellamy’s stomach twisted in disgust.

Clarke waved over the two guards that Bellamy had sent over on his way to find Octavia. Both had cloths over their mouths and crudely made cloth gloves. They were careful not to touch any of Derek’s exposed skin or blood as they took his body outside.

Clarke was still sitting next to the pool of blood when Bellamy stopped behind her.

“Clarke?” She took a moment to compose herself and then she turned around.

His princess looked even paler than before and had smudges of blood under her eyes. Her lips were tinted red as well and Bellamy was scared to ask if she was coughing blood like the others, like Derek had. Because he knew that her answer would be ‘yes’ and he had no idea what he would do then. The thought of losing her was unbearable.

So he pushed it away.

Bellamy nodded to his sister who was standing behind his back. Octavia had been uncharacteristically quiet during the whole ordeal.

“She was the first to find Murphy.” That bastard’s name left a vile taste in his mouth. He was the reason behind Derek’s death, behind Clarke’s sickness. He had no right to live, not after he brought this virus in their camp.

Clarke’s tired eyes lit with understanding and she moved to grab a lamp and two relatively clean looking rags. One of them she tossed over to Bellamy.

“You shouldn’t breathe the air in here. It might be transmitted through touch but there’s no way we can know for sure.” Bellamy followed her example when she put the cloth over her mouth and watched her as Clarke inspected meticulously Octavia’s open mouth and then her eyes, ears and nose. “Okay, we’re done. She has no visible signs of swelling or bleeding.”

Bellamy breathed little easier. “So you’re saying she’s fine?”

“I’m saying that she’s not exhibiting symptoms.” Clarke glanced quickly at Octavia and then turned her attention to Bellamy – he still looked very distressed. “I would still like to keep her in here, just in case.”

Bellamy did a quick survey of the room and frowned. If his sister was truly healthy then sitting in an atmosphere like this was sure to make her catch the virus.

Clarke read his expression like an open book and bit her lip in thought. If they wanted to find out what this virus was then they needed outside information and Octavia was the only one who could provide them with that. But Bellamy would never agree to that.

The gears in Clarke’s mind started working faster as an idea popped in her head.

“I’ll let her stay on the third level with the other people that don’t have the sickness symptoms. I’ll keep an eye on her and that way you won’t have to worry about her sneaking out.”

Octavia had been busy observing the interaction between her brother and Clarke when all of her plans to go and see Lincoln crashed down with that one sentence. “Screw you, Clarke.” And to think she had started liking the blond.

“You let me know if her condition changes.” Clarke nodded her head in agreement and with one last worried glance in their direction Bellamy left the shuttle.

Making sure that Bellamy was out of hearing range Clarke turned around to prevent Octavia from climbing the ladder.

“Octavia, wait.” The black haired girl watched her with expectation. “I need you to sneak out again.”

Octavia arched her brow in surprise.

Maybe there was a reason to like Clarke after all.

-

_“I’m coming with you.”_

Octavia was running back as fast as she could.

There was no cure.

What was she supposed to tell Clarke?

Lincoln had said that the sickness passes quickly but it leaves the victims weak, dehydrated and tired. In short even if most of the hundred that were down with the virus miraculously were to get better in an instant they still wouldn’t have enough strength to put a fight against the Grounders.

And battlefield? What battlefield? And what about the Grounders East of here? Who were they? If the hundred were to try and talk with them would the result be the same? Maybe, considering the fact that Lincoln’s tribe had some sort of an alliance with them.

Everything was so complicated.

_“They attack at first light.”_

Octavia broke into a faster sprint.

She had other things to worry about right now.

-

Clarke was struck frozen as she watched Alicia go into the same seizure that had taken Derek’s life.

She was powerless against this virus. No matter what she did it didn’t have any effect. The quarantine wasn’t working. The sick people couldn’t remember who exactly they had touched and more and more people were going down with the virus.

Clarke was afraid that soon there wouldn’t be a single person healthy enough to stand against the Grounders. She herself was feeling awful and combined with her arm injury she was barely functioning. The only good thing so far was that she hadn’t started bleeding from her wound as well. The blood loss that would follow if that was to happen would be more than enough to end her life. She still hadn’t recovered from her adventure at the bridge and now this virus was only making things worse for her.

Her head felt heavy and was pounding in pace with her wound, she couldn’t use her left arm unless she wanted to risk aggravating her injury and she was on the stage where she had started coughing blood.

From her observation the virus had three stages. First the infected person started to bleed from his nose, eyes or ears. After some time the person succumbed to the second stage when he starts to feel irritation in his throat and the need to cough to try and get rid of that sensation. And the coughing was accompanied with more blood. The third stage was the seizure. So far two people had had it and one hadn’t survived the fit.

Alicia’s body twitched twice and became unnaturally still.

Make that two out of two.

Clarke was at the second stage and she was afraid that she wouldn’t survive the third. But Bellamy was constantly close by and she had sent Octavia to find a cure. She couldn’t give up now. The hundred looked up to her and believed that she could save them. Oh, how wrong they were but still Clarke put on a brave front and reassured their fears. They were stronger than this, they were going to survive.

If only.

The guards had taken out Alicia’s body and Clarke forced herself to exit the ship and face the crowd at the front.

Bellamy was there. Of course he was there; he didn’t miss a chance to make sure that she was still breathing and kicking. She smiled despite the grim circumstances. He cared and that made all the difference.

She knew that Bellamy cared for her, he had showed her before, it wasn’t something new. But being on Death’s threshold made her see things differently, more realistically. Clarke had gotten free of the chains that were holding her back regarding her and Bellamy’s relationship and had _really_ looked at him.

Her heart did a funny flip and something warm pulsed inside of her when he smiled encouragingly at her.

She had fallen for him, Bellamy Blake, the one person that was able to completely get under her skin and stay there, close to her heart.

Why is it that you always get to see what is right in front of you when you’re about to irreversibly lose it?

But she had to believe that she was going to live after this. She was stubborn enough to survive the virus. She had to.

“You ok in there?” Bellamy’s voice, his familiar form, his brown eyes – they all kept Clarke’s demons away. “Got enough food? Water?”

“We’re good. Some medicine might be nice.”

He cracked a smile. “I’ll see what I can do about that.”

Clarke smiled in return and was about to enter the ship again when his next question sent her into panic.

“Octavia, you doing alright in there?” Nothing followed.

Clarke wanted to curse, badly. And when things were going off without a hitch.

“Octavia?” Bellamy took few steps forward and Clarke turned around.

He was going to hate her for this. Octavia was and always would be his first priority.

“She’s… not in there, Bellamy.”

Clarke hid her wince when she met his thunderous expression. Partially that was because she was too tired to even change her facial expression.

“I sent her to see Lincoln and find a cure.”

“You told her to go outside the gates? Now? When we’re expecting the Grounders’ attack?” The questions were rhetorical and Clarke didn’t waste any energy to answer them. “If something happens to her, you and me we’re going to have problems.” With that he turned his back on her and went to scatter the crowd of people.

Clarke watched him go. Damn but that change of attitude had hurt even when Clarke knew that it was going to happen.

Bellamy’s mind was divided. One side hoped that Octavia really does return with a cure; he wasn’t ready to lose Clarke, not when he had just found her. But the other side condemned Clarke for sending Octavia out in the wild and jeopardizing her safety.

He reached the main gate.

“Get out of my way.” The kid he said that to turned around slowly and Bellamy unconsciously took a step back.

The kid, Malcolm his mind helpfully supplied, was bleeding from the eyes. The people around his shrieked in alarm and got away from him. Rifles were raised.

“Get away from him.” A person yelled from Bellamy’s left side.

“Easy.” Bellamy had to gain control of the situation before it escalated beyond his abilities. Scared teenagers with guns tended to do stupid things. “Go to the dropship.” He said to Malcolm and with his peripheral vision he saw Raven, who had ran over to see what was the commotion about, approach a swaying girl.

He barely heard her ask the girl “Hey, are you alright?” before chaos overtook everything.

The girl fell to the ground and when a guy leaned to help her up she spat blood in his face. Screams erupted everywhere and guns were raised against every non armed person.

“Calm down!” But Bellamy’s command wasn’t heard.

“Stay back!” The guards pushed the others back. 

Bellamy and Finn tried to restore order or at least some resemblance to it. But even with Raven trying to help it proved to be useless.

A gunshot and then two more was all it took to accomplish that.

Bellamy searched for the cause of the sudden silence and his eyes found Clarke holding a rifle in her right hand and looking at them as if they were misbehaving children. Which they kinda were.

She took few steps forward but still kept her distance from them. “Don’t you see? That’s exactly what the Grounders want. They don’t have to kill us if we do the work for them.”

Bellamy had to admire her resolve – even sick, wounded and tired she still commanded attention and obedience.

But maybe not from all. “Yeah, well, if we stop the virus from spreading then we don’t have to worry about that.” One of the guards holding a rifle aimed his gun at Clarke.

Bellamy saw red. _Nobody_ points a gun at Clarke or dares to threaten her. Not now, not ever. In less than five seconds Bellamy had disarmed the guy and broke his nose with his elbow. It wasn’t Finn’s but for the time being it would do.

“Sorry to point it out, princess, but your quarantine is not working.” Clarke wanted to roll her eyes at him for stating the obvious but she saved her energy for later.

“We just have to hold on until Octavia comes back with the cure.”

Bellamy was about to reprimand Clarke again for sending his sister out when running footsteps put a hold on his words.

“There’s no cure.” Octavia’s clear breathless voice shocked everybody.

Bellamy’s heart stopped. No. that wasn’t possible. Clarke had to live.

He paid just enough attention to his recent obsession to see her stumble back.

 _No cure, no cure, no cure…_ Clarke tried to chase away Octavia’s words away but they kept coming back. She had to live, she didn’t want to die. She was too young, it wasn’t her time. _No cure._ Black spots danced in front of her eyes. The rifle fell from her loose grip. Her legs turned to jelly and she was about to fall back if strong arms hadn’t caught her. A moment later and she was leaning against somebody’s firm chest. She knew that smell.

“Bellamy.”

“It’s alright, princess, I got you.”

“No, don’t touch me.” He laughed at her weak attempt to push him away and lifted her in his arms, carrying her bridal style back in the ship.

“Enjoy the princess treatment until you can. I’m not going to do this often.”

This attempt to make her smile was the last thing she was aware of before everything went black.

-

Octavia hovered uncertainly over Bellamy’s shoulder as she watched him lay Clarke carefully in one of the empty hammocks. She rarely had seen him be so tender to anyone else but her. There was something going on between those two.

After he was done making sure that Clarke was comfortable he turned his attention to her.

“We’re going to have a little talk about your Grounder.”

Talking about Lincoln with her brother was the last thing on Octavia’s to-do list.

“There’s no cure but Lincoln said that the virus passes quickly. He called it a softener. They use it before engaging enemies on the battlefield. Its designation is not to kill but to weaken us.”

“Not to kill? Tell that to the two people that lost their lives because of it.”

“They hit at dawn.”

Bellamy paused. His anger was still seething just below the surface but as a leader he had to make sure they lived to see another day.

“You’re sure he didn’t lie to you?”

“Lincoln would never do that.” Bellamy kept his opinion about that to himself. They had more urgent matters.

He checked on Clarke once more, threw Murphy a dirty glance, and took Octavia out of the shuttle.

“We need a way to slow them down then.”

-

The gunpowder wasn’t enough. Not for the number of bullets Bellamy wanted.

But still they had to try and make as many as they could until dawn. It was their only option.

So far Bellamy’s only plan to slow them down was to put sentries around the area from which Murphy had said he had come from. But even that wouldn’t buy them enough time.

They could try and run but that meant that they had to leave the camp behind with the provisions, the shelter, the communication… the sick ones. And there was no way in hell Bellamy was leaving Clarke. Not when he knew there was a chance she could survive the virus. But even if she was doomed he would still stay.

His princess was a fighter. She will be up and awake soon and back to making his life difficult.

She had to, Bellamy _needed_ her to.

“Come on, we need these guns on the wall.”

Raven looked at him – they were in the armory tent. Jasper, Monty and a girl Bellamy wasn’t overly familiar with were helping Raven make bullets. “We’re running out of gunpowder.”

“We’re so dead.” The girl exclaimed.

“Don’t worry, Harper, I got your back.” Monty snorted at Jasper’s knight like speech.

Bellamy paid little attention to the tension between the two boys, it didn’t really concern him. Fame was a fickle thing and Jasper had to learn that falling from the top was harder when one didn’t have friends to soften the blow. Hopefully he wouldn’t need to learn the hard way to cherish his true friends.

“Guns are not going to slow them down.” Oh look, Finn finally decided to join their little party.

“It’s the only option that we have. It has to work.” And Bellamy was going to make sure that it worked. Failure was not an option here.

“We have to delay them. What Octavia said is true – the virus passes quickly. Murphy is already getting better. We need more time so that the others can get better as well.”

“And what do you think we’re trying to accomplish here?”

Finn ignored him and turned to Raven. “What do you need for a bomb?”

Something in Raven’s mind wriggled. “Depends on what you want to blow.”

“A bridge.”

Bellamy had to admit that he was impressed. Finn was usually the one against any form of violence and now he was suggesting they use a bomb. Bellamy wasn’t sure what had brought that change of heart but he wasn’t going to complain. Setting off a bomb would slow down the Grounders more than few bullets.

“If we accept that what Murphy told us is true.”

“He has no reason to lie, Bellamy.”

“Oh really?”

Suddenly Raven recalled her conversation with Clarke about the hydrazine.

“I have an idea.”

All eyes turned to her.

“Raven, we’re talking about a bridge that has survived a nuclear war and ninety-seven years of weather.”

She smirked at Bellamy. “But it won’t survive me.”

-

Reaching the crash zone the second time was faster than the first. They knew where they had to go and what to do. Not having to worry about meeting Grounders on the way there was also a bonus.

The group this time consisted only of Raven, Bellamy, Finn, Jasper and two other guys whose names Raven had forgotten. They left Monty and Harper to make more bullets. Though if they were to make this bomb they needed all the gunpowder they could get.

Raven was dressed in her space suit and was using a thermostat to store the drops of hydrazine the turbine had leaked. The process was slow and at some point her arm started to hurt but Raven just changed her hold and continued gathering the dangerous liquid.

For that bridge to go down they required every single drop she could get.

An hour later and the metal container was filled to the brim. And they hadn’t exploded along the way. Raven counted that as a success.

They didn’t waste any time in getting to the camp. The night was slowly taking over.

Back in the armory tent Raven transferred the flammable pink liquid into a jar and tightened the cap. Only then did she take off the space suit.

“It’s safe. You can come in.”

Bellamy and Finn entered the tent.

The glass jar filled with pink liquid didn’t look threatening at all. But then again, Bellamy thought, the more harmless something looked the bigger chance it had to screw you up.

Raven rolled her eyes at his skittishness. “Relax; you need an accelerant for it to blow up. Here, let me show you.” She took an old paint bucket that had survived the Cataclysm and placed the hydrazine jar inside it. Then she took out another jar, this one filled with the rest of the gunpowder they had left. “You place the items like this and then you pour the gunpowder around the hydrazine jar. Then,” She drew a big X mark with a piece of chalk on the bucket and turned it around to face them, “you hit the mark and the bomb goes off.”

“If this doesn’t succeed then we waste all of our gunpowder.”

Finn shrugged. “Gunpowder or not, if this doesn’t work we’ll be dead anyway.”

“Then we have to make sure it works.” And Raven had done everything possible to make it work. “You have to be at least twenty feet away to take the shot. Otherwise the shockwave will get you or worse.”

Bellamy looked between Finn and Raven. “Which one of you plans to bomb?”

After a moment hesitation Finn said that he will do it.

Bellamy couldn’t stop the scoff of incredibility that left his mouth. “He can’t pick up a gun but he has no problems blowing people.”

“I’m not blowing people, I’m blowing a bridge. There’s a difference.”

“Finn, wake up. We have to take down as many of them as we can. That’s our only chance to decrease their numbers before they come knocking on our walls.”

“They don’t know that. If we have one bomb why waste it on a bridge when we know they have other ways to reach us. Peace through strength.”

“Then we have to make this seem plausible.” Raven cut in their conversation. She had had enough of their constant bickering and showing off. She really had no idea how did Clarke put up with the two of them all the time.

“Come to think of it the man that built the a-bomb also thought that he was doing it for peace. Look how that worked out for the rest of the world.”

“Yeah, well-“ Finn’s response was lost in the shouts that were coming from outside. The screams from the commotion were growing in strength and then Bellamy recognised Octavia’s voice and shot out of the tent.

Three guys wearing rifles had surrounded Octavia and one was holding her arm in a tight grip. As Bellamy got closer he heard parts of their disagreement.

“-ounder’s bitch. Did it feel good betraying us, huh? I bet he gave you an antidote for the virus, that’s why you’re not sick.”

One of the other three was about to continue but Bellamy had reached them and pushed back harshly the guy that had taken hold of her hand. He stumbled back and Bellamy used the time to push Octavia behind his back.

“Back off.” Bellamy was outnumbered three to one and he was unarmed. Nonetheless, nobody had the right to badmouth his sister or threat her badly, let alone try to intimidate her.

The attackers looked at each other and one of them raised his gun. Octavia shifted nervously behind him.

“Don’t be stupid. I won’t say it again – back off.”

The guy on the left attacked him. Bellamy blocked his pathetic excuse for a punch and took him out with a knee to the abdomen. The shooter was hesitant to pull the trigger and Bellamy went for the third guy. He put more of a fight and Bellamy had to twist his arm behind his back and kick his knee to make him give up on the ridiculous notion of fighting him.

“Bellamy!” Octavia’s panicked cry made him look up and he didn’t manage to fully evade the blow meant for his head.

He had just enough time to move back and the muzzle of the rifle hit the right side of his head. Pain blossomed in his temple and black spots danced in front of his eyes. He pushed his discomfort away and wrestled the rifle away from his attacker. Octavia’s surprise elbow attack in the guy’s kidney was enough of a distraction for Bellamy to take him out cold with a precise hit to the back of his head.

Rushing footsteps made him aware of the arrival of Finn and Raven.

“What happened?”

Bellamy waved off Raven’s concern and was about to tell Finn to get ready when he lost balance. Octavia rushed to his side and he leaned on her and on the rifle. He shook his head to clear his mind but he only made the situation worse. He was seeing double and he was getting a headache.

“Bell, you’re bleeding.” Octavia’s voice sounded muffled and when he raised his hand to rub the pain away from his temple he found the sticky red consistency of blood. Fuck. “Come on, we have to clean that and make sure that the blow wasn’t serious.”

He kicked one of the guys on the ground in frustration. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Raven, get the bomb ready to leave in ten. Finn, go find Jasper. He’s currently the only decent shooter that we have left.”

The two didn’t complain and left to carry out his orders.

“Come on, big brother. Let’s go and wash out the wound. You’ll deal with them later.” Bellamy made sure to commit to memory Octavia’s attacker’s faces and then let his sister take him to the medbay.

There she cleaned his wound and bandaged his head.

“Did they do anything to you?”

“No, I’m fine. How are you feeling?”

“I’m glad you’re here, O.”

Octavia smiled. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I have a killer headache and I’m pretty sure I can’t stand straight.”

“Then don’t. Go to sleep here. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”

“Using my words, huh?”

“You’ve said it so many times, so why not?”

Bellamy smiled at her cheekiness and sighed.

“I can’t. I have to go check on-“

“Clarke.” Bellamy would have raised his eyebrow at her if the action wasn’t accompanied by a dull throb in his temple. And here he thought that his sister had been too ensnared with her Grounder to pay attention to anything else.

“Yes.”

“Up then.” She helped him steady his feet and then walked him to the shuttle. Before he entered the quarantined zone she gave him a cloth to cover his mouth and nose. “Don’t get sick on me now.” And with that she left him.

“Yes, mom.”

Maybe she wasn’t such an ungrateful brat after all.

Once inside it was easy to spot Clarke. She was up and about giving water to everyone and making sure that they were comfortable. She looked better than few hours ago. And she wasn’t favouriting her left side as much as she used to. It took her a while but she noticed him and made her way to him.

“Hey.” And then she saw the bandage. “What’s wrong?” She raised her hand to touch him but refrained in the last moment.

“Some idiots playing God.”

Bellamy looked around – there was blood everywhere. The stench of death and iron had penetrated the air and clung to the coughing forms of the sick. Some of them looked better, some of them worse. The view was depressing and reminded him how close he had come to losing Clarke.  

“Let’s go outside.”

“Bellamy, I can’t, you know that. The virus-“

“We’re going to sit in front of the shuttle. You look like you need some clean air, princess.”

Clarke looked around – Murphy and few of the others that were feeling better were looking after the rest. She wouldn’t be missed for a while so she nodded her agreement and the two of them went outside.

The night fresh air did feel good.

“How are things inside?”

“Bad. We lost another five people. It’s hard to say if they will be the only casualties.”

“And Murphy?”

“Alive and getting better with every minute. He was actually helping me take care of the others.”

Bellamy snorted. “I don’t trust him.” _I don’t want him here._

“I know, believe me, I know. He’s filled with anger and healthy dose of hate for us.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ in there.”

Clarke cracked a small smile, he knew her so well. “You don’t have to trust him. You saw what the Grounders did to him and we need all the fighters we can get to go against them. We just have to believe that the hate he has for them overshadows the negative feelings he has for us.”

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

“Something like that.”

“I still don’t like it.”

Clarke laughed and Bellamy joined her shortly after; she had infectious laugh.

They sat there in silence most of the time.

Clarke kept stealing glances at Bellamy – he was staring in the distance.

“What are you looking at?”

“A bomb.”

Clarke blinked in surprise. “What bomb? The one I asked Raven about? And what are we blowing?”

He looked even more surprised than her. “You gave Raven the idea about the hydrazine? And we’re blowing the bridge. That’s the only way to slow down and scare off the Grounders. We still don’t have enough manpower to fight them back with.”

The first rays of the sun slowly tinted the dark blue sky and Bellamy got restless.

“Maybe we should go inside.”

“Why?” Damn it, she wanted to grab his hand or something, this ‘no touching’ thing was driving her insane. His touch always reassured her in some way and right now he was making her nervous.

“They were supposed to set off the bomb by now. The Grounders are attacking at first light.”

Bellamy got up and Clarke followed his example. Just as he was ushering her inside the shuttle, deafening explosion sound swept over them and the wind of the blast swayed the trees around the camp.

Big mushroom cloud took most of their sky view and then slowly disseminated.

Clarke’s heart beat wildly. They did it.

“I am become Death-“

“- the destroyer of worlds.”

She looked and Bellamy and found him staring at her.

They had survived yet another day on Earth.

But at what cost?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yep, I made quite a few changes compared to the episode but I felt that the story flowed better this way.  
> protective!Bellamy had to make an appearance, haha.  
> Anyway, tell me your thoughts about this.  
> And apparently I can't do something as simple as creating a tumblr account. Every time I try (and I used three different e-mails) it says that my account has been terminated... ffs, I can't even enter. I send an e-mail to the support team, hopefully they'll fix this because it's ridiculous. Anyone got a tumblr account I can stalk?  
> Edit: I actually made a tumblr (yey!). It's mercuryslunacies, help me stalk you <3  
> \- M.


	8. Piling Problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohai, sorry for the long wait but I had a busy week and on top of the because of a thunder storm my internet got cut off! Sad story, really, haha.  
> Anyways, thanks Ro for being such a wonderful beta and going over this at 2 in the morning <3  
> Read, review, enjoy!

“Well?”

Clarke slowly looked over Connor’s cold body.

She, Bellamy and two guards were sitting next to a freshly made grave intended for Connor. The dark skinned kid had died unexpectedly and Clarke had found out that he was no longer breathing just this morning when she went to check on Raven.

Raven was getting better.

But Connor… Connor was dead.

And it made no sense.

He was one of the first people to catch the virus and he had it tough. But he had survived stage three and Clarke was positive that he was going to make it. His coughing had stopped and blood no longer seeped from his body orifices. Connor had just been weak and dehydrated and he needed to rest. It made absolutely no sense for him to be dead.

Clarke inspected his hands and then opened his mouth – his tongue wasn’t swollen, nor were his tonsils. There wasn’t any blood in his oral cavity either. Moving on, Clarke pried open his eyelids. His lifeless eyes were bloodshot and they stared right through her.

There was something disturbing about meeting the gaze of a dead man.

Done with her inspection, Clarke moved away and let the guards lower Connor’s body into the grave. They buried him in silence until the soil filled up the grave and hid Connor’s body from their eyes.

Only then did Bellamy approach her. His hand on her right elbow was welcomed warmth.

“The virus?”

“No.” Clarke shook her head. She had no way to be sure but she had seen something similar on the Ark once. “Asphyxia.”

Bellamy ruffled his hair and Clarke elaborated.

“There are no visible signs of blood in his mouth or his nose. I checked him over when Finn brought Raven to the dropship and Connor was breathing easier, he was getting better.” Clarke paused for a moment; she knew how Bellamy would react at her conclusion. “His eyes are bloodshot and he has barely noticeable bruises around his mouth. Cause of death – suffocation.”

Bellamy felt the ice that invaded his veins. “You mean to tell me that somebody killed him?”

“I can’t be sure, but yes, that’s what I’m saying.”

He looked at the graves – fourteen had been added last night because of the virus and now one more. They were too many; twenty-five graves were too much. From the original group one forth was dead and they had spent less than three weeks down on Earth. Their numbers were dwindling, fast.  Too fast.

“It could have been anyone. We’re all criminals here.”

Bellamy glanced at her – Clarke was thinking exactly what he was thinking.

_Murphy._

“We know who it is.” The hand he had around his rifle clenched closer to the trigger. He never should have let that bastard live, let alone accept him back in the camp.

“We can’t be sure about that. Accusing him without proof will only make things complicated and it might end up like last time.” Clarke winced as she recalled the event. It had been ugly. And unfair.

“That doesn’t matter. I’ll just kill him and be done with it.” He had been itching to do that anyway.

“Bellamy!” Her displeased cry combined with the frown on her pretty face made Bellamy sigh in defeat. “We can’t just kill him like that, not after we agreed to let him stay here and we informed the rest of the hundred. People will ask for reasons and proof and we can’t give them that. You can’t kill somebody based on suspicions. The rules we set, we have to follow them.”

Bellamy shook his head. “I don’t like this.”

“I don’t like it either.” She looked so troubled and exhausted that Bellamy couldn’t resist the urge to pull her closer and hug her. His princess was supposed to be happy and carefree not worried and scared.

But fear was part of their daily routine now.

She laid her head on his shoulder and let him support her weight. It had been long couple of days.

Having Clarke in his embrace, this was what he was fighting for. To protect her and to keep Octavia safe. And lately, to make sure the hundred survived. This was their home now and he was ready to kill for it. Grounders or Murphy, it made no difference to Bellamy. If it was an enemy he was going to take care of it and make sure that his girls were perfectly safe.

“Fine.” He conceded at last. “I’ll tell some of the guards to keep close eye on him and I’m not giving him a weapon no matter what.” Bellamy kissed her head and pushed back one stubborn curl from her face. “You stay away from him.”

Clarke rolled her eyes at him. “Yes, boss.” It was still hard for her to accept the fact that Bellamy was serious about _this,_ whatever their relationship was.

“I mean it, princess.” He leaned in for a quick kiss and Clarke silently cursed when he let her go. They hadn’t had more than few minutes together since the virus hit them.

She reluctantly stepped back and entered the camp. There were still few people that were recovering from the virus and she needed to change her bandage.

And then she had to talk with Octavia about Lincoln and the Grounders.

And at some point bug Monty about the walkie-talkies.

No wonder she had little time for Bellamy.

Being a leader was a hard job.

-

With open wounds and visible signs of torture combined with his blood-stained tormented face Murphy looked as innocent as he could.

Just from observing him, Clarke couldn’t say for sure if he had really been the one to kill Connor.

All they had were speculations and in this case speculations weren’t enough.

Murphy had clearly recovered from the virus even though his movements weren’t as sharp as Clarke remembered them to be but experiencing torture would do that to a person. He was currently resting in one of the hammocks while Clarke was checking the patients that were still resting from the virus attack.

Over the course of the night Clarke had gotten the hang of the virus, well mostly – the blood loss led to insufficient blood in the person’s body and eventual death. Staying hydrated, relatively clean and warm was the only solution she had come up with. In most cases that was enough. In others – the person got an internal bleeding, or so Clarke suspected, and as she couldn’t be certain of this or even predict where exactly the bleeding was, let alone have the equipment to fix it, sooner or later that person was a goner.

Raven was the last person she checked on.

Her pulse was steady and she was making a fast recovery. The fever she had when Finn brought her was down and the paleness had left her cheeks. Thankfully, Raven never progressed to stage three. Clarke assumed it was thanks to her strong immune system.

Come to think of it, the Blake siblings hadn’t gotten sick either and Octavia had had contact with the virus. Finn, also. And Miller had stayed away from the sick people as well.

Clarke frowned in thought and pushed her blond hair back from her face.

What exactly did the virus target? Weak immune system? Blood type? Specific genes? It was useless to think about that, Clarke knew, but she was still fascinated with the process. Biological warfare was the most dangerous of all war weapons because you could never be sure what exactly to expect and how to stop it.

“Hey.”

She turned to face the soft voice and smiled at Raven. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. I can still smell the blood in my nose though. I could definitely use a shower.”

Clarke laughed and gave Raven a wet cloth to clean her face with. “You and I both.”

Clarke asked her few more question to make sure that everything was going alright with the dark-haired girl and then left her alone.

One last glance at Murphy assured her that he was sleeping and there were no unattended guns laying around. But if Bellamy’s and hers doubts were actually true, he didn’t need a real weapon to kill somebody. She felt uneasy leaving Raven and the others alone with him.

Clarke counted on the fact that Raven hadn’t been here when they tried to hang Murphy and all of the sick people hadn’t really had a hand in his death sentence, if one didn’t count the cheering on they did.

Meeting Finn on the way out helped her feel calmer about the situation.

-

Finn smiled in greeting at Clarke and pushed the tent material out of the way to enter the dropship.

The atmosphere was still gloomy and grey, but at least the air didn’t smell like decaying corpses and blood anymore.

Still, he wasn’t happy to see Raven in a setting like this.

He approached her hammock and wasn’t surprised to see that she was awake. He was mostly relieved actually; seeing the blood running from her nose and the way she stumbled on the way back to camp had struck deep gnawing fear in his core.

But he also felt guilt and confusion.

Lots of confusion.

Finn was in a state of uncertainty; he was divided between two girls, Raven and Clarke. And he didn’t know what to do, how to react, who to choose. He wasn’t even sure what he felt for them.

Raven. His strong, beautiful, smart Raven. Ever since they were little the two of them would always be together. And growing up as best friends had in the long run led them to being in a romantic relationship. Finn was Raven’s last family, the only person she truly loved and could count on. Finn getting in prison was because he had taken the blame for her mistake and he didn’t regret it. But when he set foot on Earth everything changed. He was confused, alone and emotionally drained. And Raven was thousand miles away from him, safe on the Ark, not aware of the fact that her boyfriend no longer lived on the same ship. He tried to have hope, he really did. Even when Jasper had been attacked, even when they went to rescue him, even when Bellamy was still a jerk and was leading most of the delinquents. But then the wrist bands stopped working and Finn stopped functioning. They were stranded on Earth and the Ark thought them dead.

And then there was Clarke. She was like a tornado – sweeping everything in her path. Headstrong, passionate, kind and smart – she was the way out of his misery. It wasn’t that he simply used her so that he could forget. No, they both needed the comfort of connecting with another person’s body, heart, soul. They needed to be alive, to hope, to trust, _to_ _feel_. And somewhere along the way Finn realised he had feelings for Clarke.

Then Raven landed and Finn found himself on a branched pathway. One way was to Raven and the other one led to Clarke. Except that Clarke had put a ‘do not cross, dead end’ sign on hers.

Finn’s mind became even bigger mess because of that.

Could he love two people at once? Did he actually love Clarke?

He knew he had feelings for the blond girl but how deep did they run Finn had no idea.

But did it matter? He had hurt Raven and betrayed the trust of both Raven and Clarke.

Life was so complicated.

“Hey.” Raven turned to face him; she had dark circles under her eyes and she looked tired.

They were all drained, the past twenty-four hours proved to be too challenging and exhausting.

She muttered a quiet ‘hi’ in reply.

The silence was awkward and Finn despised it. His relationship with Raven never had felt so strained and breakable as it did now, they have had their fair share of arguments but even when she had been angry at him Raven never had looked so defeated.

“You took the bomb without me.” Finn wasn’t accusing her; he just wanted to talk, to understand.

“You hesitated.”

“Sorry for having second thoughts about killing people.”

“If you haven’t noticed, Finn, currently we live in a ‘kill or be killed’ world. There’s no place for hesitation.”

“You sound like Bellamy.”

She scoffed at him and her face was set in indifference. “I happen to agree with him.”

Okay, that wasn’t the direction he imagined their conversation would take.

“You knew you were sick.” Raven didn’t say anything. “Damn it, Raven, you were ready to die out there.” A person near them stirred in his sleep and Finn forced himself to lower his voice.

“What do you care?” She sounded cynical and the twisted cold smile on her face wasn’t like her.

“Don’t say that, I care about you, I love you!”

“No, you don’t. Not the way I want to be loved. Not the way you love Clarke.”

Bull’s eye.

Finn’s objection never came.

Raven was right after all. The way he loved her was different from the way he loved Clarke.

He could only watch speechless as Raven took off her chain necklace, the small, delicate metal crane gently swaying with the motion.

She gathered the chain in her palm and her fingers caressed the wings of the crane out of habit. Her hand was strong when she offered the necklace to Finn.

Finn started at it – this was the symbol of their relationship, of their love, and now Raven was giving it back.

Was it really over between them?

His hand closed her fingers over the crane as he clasped her hand.

“Please, keep it.”

“It’s over, Finn.”

“No.” He wasn’t ready for this. “It’s true that I may love Clarke but I don’t want her, not like this.” _Not anymore._ “The two of us talked, there’s nothing going on between me and her that you need to worry about. Please.”

“Your feelings-“

“Let me fix this.” _Let me fix **us**. _

Raven’s resolve weakened and Finn noticed the signs of her holding back her tears.

“One last chance, Raven.”

He let go of her hand, she was holding the crane tightly in her fist. The seconds turned to minutes and Raven was still silent.

Then she nodded once and Finn felt like flying.

“I’ll give you time to sort out your feelings.” It wasn’t easy for her to admit that her boyfriend loved somebody else than her. She had tried to ignore it, to close her eyes for the fact but it was still there, and how it hurt.

But hope had found place in her broken heart and she couldn’t refuse this last chance.

Finn’s fingers ghosted briefly over her hand in silent thanks and he smiled at her, a true genuine smile.

“And Finn? I’m not going to wait forever.”

They were far from okay.

Raven brought the crane closer to her heart.

But maybe there was hope.

The question was which person did Finn love more – her or Clarke?

-

“I have to take apart the radio for that, Clarke. That means we won’t have any communication with the Ark. Plus, I still need few parts but I think we can find those at the crash site if they haven’t burned.”

“Thanks, Monty. I’ll try to make Bellamy organise another trip to the Exodus ship.”

“Did I hear a trip?” Jasper poked his head in the tent. “I want to go, too. I need ingredients.”

Clarke blinked. “What for?”

“I think I can make something like land mines.” He looked so proud and with that stupid excited smile on his face Clarke couldn’t help but laugh. “So, when do we leave?”

“Easy there. I have to talk with Bellamy first but I’ll let you know.” She was at the tent entrance when she turned around. “Have you seen Octavia by any chance?”

Monty shook his head ‘no’ and Jasper frowned in thought. “No idea. Check her tent?”

“I will, thanks.”

With that Clarke left them alone and went in search for Octavia. She wanted to know if Lincoln had mentioned something else about the Grounders, something that could be of use.

Entering Octavia’s tent she wasn’t expecting to see Bellamy’s sister crying.

“Octavia?”

The dark haired girl was fast to brush her tears away and looked at Clarke as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“What?” She snapped at Clarke, but her voice lacked the usual bite.

This was so unlike Octavia that Clarke had been taken aback for a moment. Octavia was a stubborn, mischievous and rebellious teenager with a mile long ‘I’m my own boss’ attitude. Crying wasn’t something that she often did.

Clarke scowled. “Did Bellamy say something to you?”

Octavia chocked on her laughter at that thought and tried to fix her hair. “No, it’s nothing.”

“It’s clearly something.”

“What do you want, Clarke?”

Clarke paused; something was bothering Octavia and if it wasn’t Bellamy then Clarke wasn’t sure how to handle the younger Blake. But if she didn’t want to talk about it then fine.

“It’s about Lincoln. Can you tell me if he said something you think is important?”

Octavia looked straight through Clarke – her green eyes were wide open and filled with so much pain that Clarke could feel the agony in her heart.

She didn’t think about it much; she just crossed the tent, sat on the bed next to Octavia and hugged the younger girl. Something was wrong with Octavia’s Grounder and Clarke feared the worse.

Octavia didn’t struggle against her embrace but she didn’t hug Clarke back either. She just sat there frozen with tears streaming down her face. Clarke’s quiet humming eventually broke through the haze surrounding Octavia and she slowly calmed down.

Clarke didn’t pry no matter how much she wanted that information.

Octavia had been sheltered most of her life and this might as well had been her first real love. Even as forbidden as it was, love was still love and Clarke understood that better than anyone.

“He..” Octavia cleared her throat. “He mentioned something about the mountain people being angry but we planted the bomb and I think that stopped them.”

“Mountain people?”

“Most likely his tribe but I’m not sure.” Clarke relaxed her hold but she didn’t let go of Octavia completely. “And apparently somewhere east of here there’s another tribe but we need to cross the sea or something like that.”

“Then it’s safe to assume that there are even more tribes and more survivors. Is the East tribe a friendly one?”

“I wouldn’t bet on it; apparently it’s in alliance with Lincoln’s tribe.”

“Lovely.” How was it that their problems kept piling up, higher and higher until they resembled unreachable mountains like mount Weather? “It still might be worth a shot.”

Octavia started fidgeting and Clarke let her go. The younger girl clearly felt uncomfortable in Clarke’s presence after such a display and Clarke tried to think of some way to distract her from her painful thoughts.

“I don’t know about you but after all this blood the past few days I could definitely use a bath.”

Octavia wrinkled her nose as she looked down at her dirt covered arms; her whole body was itching from the grime.

“I’m all in but there’s no way my brother will let us go to take a dip in the river.”

Unfortunately, Clarke knew that Octavia was right. Even though the Grounders had gone silent because of the bomb Bellamy wouldn’t risk endangering them in any way, not even for a much needed bath.

Maybe if Clarke insisted on the hygiene then Bellamy would give in. But then again Clarke was aware how stupid and dangerous that could prove to be.

 “Guess we’re stuck with using wet rags. Too bad that we don’t have enough rain water for a full shower.”

Octavia bit her lip in thought. “There might be another way but you’ll have to convince Bellamy.”

Clarke got up.

“Lead the way.”

-

In the end the group consisted of Clarke, Octavia, Raven, Bellamy and Miller.

“Are you sure this is the way?”

“Yes, brother dear.”

Octavia kept walking. The place she was taking them to was the butterfly-filled field that Atom had shown her in the beginning. She wasn’t so much interested in the butterflies this time around. No, the important part was the moss-like verdure. If she was right Lincoln had shown her something similar. He had called it water moss; the Grounders used it as something like a sponge to wash themselves with.

The moss was soft to the touch and had high absorption and the bacteria that lived in it actually helped to get the dirt off one’s skin. 

Plus, it attracted the pretty looking butterflies.

When they reached their destination everybody stopped and started in awe.

The butterflies were less than the last time but Octavia still admired their colourful beauty. The electric blue of their glass-like wings was unlike anything she had seen before.

“How did you find this place?”

Octavia walked to the centre of the clearing. “Atom showed it to me.”

Clarke just nodded and twirled around laughing when the butterflies surrounded them and flew closer to their bodies. One landed on Miller’s nose and he sneezed scaring the rest away.

“Good job.” Raven’s banter brought smiles to their faces; she looked way better than this morning.

“Now what?” Bellamy was getting impatient.

Clarke had a hard time convincing him of this small trip even when their destination was so close to their camp.

“Now,” Octavia grabbed a handful of moss and pulled until the spongy vegetation separated from the rock below, “you and Miller turn around and guard us and Raven, Clarke and I will have an improvised bath.”

To demonstrate Octavia took off her jacket and pushed up the sleeve of her shirt. She dragged the moss along her arm – the water wet her arm and when she pushed little harder and scrubbed the dirt started coming off. But unlike the feeling of cleaning only with water and some of the dust still clinging to her skin, the moss served as soap too and removed everything, leaving her skin squeaky clean.

Bellamy raised his brow. “I must admit that I’m impressed.”

“We should stock some of this back in the camp.”

“No, it works only if it’s fresh. Otherwise it dries out.”

Clarke hummed in thought. “And if we water it?”

“This place isn’t that far from camp to make all that effort.” Raven was right.

“Okay, you two. Now turn your back and keep watch.”

Bellamy wasn’t impressed with being ordered around by his little sister but nonetheless he and Miller turned their backs on the girls and kept an eye on their surroundings.

The three girls slowly took off their clothes until they were left only in their underwear and started scrubbing with the moss. Blood and dirt came off easily and left their skin clean and soft. Sadly, the water the moss released made them also cold and the chilly afternoon weather wasn’t helping that matter. It wasn’t a real shower and they had to wear the same clothes again but it was better than nothing.

They were mostly done when Clarke noticed a peculiar mark on Octavia’s left shoulder and her happy hour suddenly came to a stop. The mark was pale, less than an inch in diameter and with a small bright red dot in the middle. It was nearly impossible to spot unless you knew what you were looking for.

But Clarke had the same mark.

“Octavia.” The girl in question looked at her. “That mark, on your shoulder, how did you get it?”

Octavia rubbed her shoulder and Raven came closer to see what Clarke was talking about.

“I got it when they took me out of my cell to put me on the ship for Earth, it was an injection. They said it was some concoction to help me deal with Earth’s climate.”

“What colour was the liquid?”

“Bright pink with some blue specs.” Clarke was getting paler with every word. “One of the doctors mentioned it was called something like-“

“M17G3.”

“Yes. They gave you the same thing?”

“What is that?” Raven looked intrigued. She never had been injected with something similar and Abigail hadn’t mentioned anything about a vaccine made for Earth.

Clarke was shaking but it wasn’t from the cold, no, it was from the sudden dread Octavia’s words had implanted in her.

“It’s an anti-pregnancy serum.”

“But that’s good, right? We don’t need babies running around.” Bellamy was close enough to hear their conversation and he didn’t like the nervousness in Clarke’s voice. Hell, she hadn’t been that scared when she had been hit with an arrow or down with the virus.

“No, that’s very bad.”

Raven stopped her scrubbing and Octavia let go of her moss.

“What do you mean?”

“M17G3 is a third generation anti-pregnancy ‘vaccine’. The Council ordered M16G3 to be made when they found out that your mother had you. They deemed the once a month contraceptive pills we were usually given useless and demanded from the research medical team to come up with something more drastic. A sure method that the Council could use to prevent a second pregnancy and thus control the population.”

“A third generation?” Now Raven was starting to feel relieved that she had nothing to do with this vaccine, the way Clarke was talking about it, it was potentially dangerous.

“They tried to make one thirty years ago but with no results, the M15G3 was a waste of time. But because of the pressure the Council put on my mother she had no other choice but to start the experiments again. In the end, her team created the second version, the M16G3. It was still in test period but the results were promising so the Council demanded a demonstration on a few girls. I’ve only heard whispers about M17G3, there wasn’t supposed to be a third generation.”

Bellamy shifted, the whole thing sounded wrong.

Clarke pulled her jeans on. “In the beginning the experiment seemed to go off without a hitch. Essentially M16G3 was an artificially created hormone that once in your blood would take three months to be completely absorbed and another three for your body to get rid of it. For those six months your menstruation cycle stops, suppressed by the hormone. No menstruation, no pregnancy.” Next were her socks and her boots. “It sounded like a fairy tale, really. Six months with no abdominal pains, no back aches or killer headaches and constant mood-swings.”

Raven followed her lead and started dressing, Octavia wasn’t far behind.

“But near the end of the sixth month was when everything got complicated. More than half of the vaccinated girls died. You see for the time the hormone is in your bloodstream your immune system is constantly fighting it. To conserve energy your menstruation stops. And slowly over time your other systems stop functioning as well. Your liver, your kidneys, lymphatic system, everything. Your brain can’t get enough glucose because your body can’t get the important substances from the food you eat. The change is so slow that you don’t really notice it until the very end. If you’re lucky you survive and spend the next half a year if not more recovering.”

She was putting on her shirt when Bellamy turned to face them; Octavia and Raven were already dressed and Miller was still keeping watch.

“After that the Council gave up on the idea for a ‘vaccine’ like that and continued using the pills. Once a month pill to prevent pregnancy. Because of a rape scandal with a female prisoner few years back even the girls in jail get them.”

“Are you telling me that in less than six months all females in the camp will go down because their systems can’t function and more than half will die?” Bellamy sounded pissed, hell he looked pissed and with a right.

“Octavia was given the third generation anti-pregnancy serum, M17G3. I don’t know what the difference from the previous one is and how that difference will affect the ones who are vaccinated with it.”

“Fuck. Fuck! _FUCK!_ ” Bellamy’s exclamations ran through the clearing and echoed the thoughts of the rest of the group.

Clarke grabbed Octavia’s shaking hand.

They had little more than five months to figure this out.

Now Clarke had to ask the girls around camp to see and keep note of the ones who were given the serum. It was possible that there were girls like her who had been on the pill at that time and had escaped the nightmare that was the anti-pregnancy hormone. The vaccine didn’t work well when there was a contraceptive pill thrown in the mix.

The walk back to camp was tense and depressing. Bellamy was constantly keeping an eye on Octavia whose hand was still in Clarke’s.

Even clean Clarke felt dirty because of the information she had shared and the unknown dark future.

Before they could enter Bellamy stopped Clarke and waved the rest off.

His warm hands cupped her cheeks and his eyes searched hers. She already knew what he was going to ask.

“You were one of them, weren’t you?”

M16G3. Her worst nightmare.

“Yes.”

Bellamy’s kiss was hard and desperate and then it slowed down to an achingly soothing gentleness and Clarke felt her eyes water. He kissed her again and again and hugged her closer and rubbed her back when her tears spilled and she cried her heart out. He didn’t need to use words to chase away her demons, her fears, just being with him, touching him, kissing him, it was enough. The whiteness kept her sane.

 _He_ kept her sane.

Bellamy had her.

-

People cry not because they're weak. But because they've been strong for too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, so, nobody saw this coming, hmm? :D  
> You can find me on tumblr now - mercuryslunacies. I play around with it when I get the time.  
> \- M.


	9. Turning Tides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohai, sorry for the long wait but my exams are just around the corner and my writing time in limited.  
> Thank you for the kudos and the wonderful comments.  
> If you have questions don't be afraid to ask.  
> Thanks, Ro <3  
> Anyway, read, review, enjoy~

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Bellamy’s hand was caressing the small of Clarke’s back. Most of their clothes were off and the two of them had snuggled under Bellamy’s blankets in his tent.

The day had been tiring and after Clarke’s revelation about the vaccine and the breakdown she had Bellamy refused to leave her alone.

He was worried about Octavia as well but right now his baby sister needed female company and he made sure that Raven knew that. The dark haired girl could be annoying pain in the ass most of the time but Bellamy knew that he could count on her when he required her assistance. Besides, Octavia would probably kick him out of her tent – his fretting and nervousness would get on her nerves rather fast.

At least this way he could take care of his two girls at the same time.

Clarke stirred next to him and he pulled her soft pliant body closer to his. Her clean fresh scent tempted him and he nuzzled her cheek and kissed her neck. She had been unusually quiet and agreeable after she cried her heart out and it set Bellamy on edge – not being able to read her face, to know her thoughts – it scared him how emotionless she was.

Her blue eyes were unfocused and still glistened from her tears and Bellamy used the opportunity to kiss her full lips and bring her back to him. Clarke sighed softly and kissed him back. It was a gentle meeting of lips meant to reassure and remind Clarke that she wasn’t alone.

Her hands wove in his thick hair and she tugged twice until Bellamy pulled back.

“I was little over sixteen when the Council found out about your mother having a second child. She got floated for violating the Law and Octavia got sent to prison.” Those were facts Bellamy was painfully familiar with.

“At that time, the Council had few very long and in-depth discussions about your mother’s actions and the consequences that followed. They saw Octavia as one unaccounted mouth to feed. And the portions of food and water were already spread thin. The people were growing in numbers and the Council couldn’t keep up with all of the requirements.  They needed something drastic and reliable to control any future cases like your mother. In the end my mother was outvoted and the anti-pregnancy project was brought back to the research table.”

She was playing with his hair; her voice was empty as if she was telling somebody else’s story in a place far away.

“They followed the same idea the science team had thirty years ago and the M15G3 was reborn in few short months under the new version – M16G3. It was on a trial period and my mom’s team still wasn’t sure how it would affect a human organism but the results were promising and the Council pushed for a test. I was one of the chosen to undergo the procedure. Now that I think about it, they probably wanted to make sure that no matter what happened, my mother would give it her all to solve any future complications that could occur. I was her stimulus not to fail.”

Her laugh was humourless and for the first time Bellamy realised that maybe she wasn’t as privileged as he had thought in the beginning. 

“Thirteen girls in total were injected with M16G3. In the beginning we went for daily check-ups, then weekly, then monthly. Everything seemed fine. All the tests they ran were positive and there was no reason to worry. But then, near the end of my fifth month is when things started to go bad. I started losing weight abnormally fast, I would get dizzy and weak, I had trouble breathing, I would pass-out at random intervals, and my blood pressure was extremely low. I was under observation all the time. When the sixth month hit we already had lost two of the girls. My body refused food and water, everything I would try to swallow I would throw up shortly after. I had to be put on systems to survive but because of the Law I couldn’t get the needed amount of glucose. The project continued to lose more and more girls. My mom and her college, Jackson, they broke the Law in secret and used the glucose meant for the dead girls to try and save me and the rest.”

Bellamy tugged the blankets higher around Clarke’s shoulders and resumed his caressing. The slow imaginary patters he was drawing under her shirt seemed to relax and ground her. When she continued speaking Clarke appeared less lost, less tense.

“It worked for some. Out of the initial thirteen subjects only five made it. I was amongst them. I spent the next eight months trying to recover. Then my father got floated and I was thrown in jail for trying to spread the word that the Ark was slowly dying. And well, you know the rest.”

His girl wasn’t simply a survivor, she was a _fighter._

 “My brave princess.” She didn’t deny his words but Bellamy saw her roll her eyes.

The Clarke Griffin he knew was slowly emerging back from her shell.

“They didn’t inject you with the new serum?”

“No, when they came to get me I had already taken my pill four days before that. The serum doesn’t play well with the pill. I have to talk to the rest of the girls in camp but there’s a big chance that some of them had also been on the pill when we got sent here.”

Bellamy scoffed in frustration; ever since the Ark had taken his sister from him, he absolutely detested feeling helpless. 

“Make a list then. We need to know on whom we should keep watch. We landed here nearly a month ago.”

_Tick-tock the clock went._

“I plan to but Bellamy” she flicked his nose, “if my mom deemed the new vaccine safe enough to inject the girls, to give it to _Octavia_ , then she definitely made sure that it won’t lead to their death. She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.”

“Let’s hope you’re right, princess.”

Clarke’s body heat had nearly lulled him to sleep when she poked his side. Bellamy batted her hand away but she did it again. He grunted and pulled her closer trapping her arms between their bodies. She didn’t squirm or fight against his hold and Bellamy relaxed.

A moment later a warm current of air tickled his eyelashes.

Bellamy opened his eyes and glared at her. “What?”

“Nothing.” Clarke tried to look innocent and had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop the laughter. With ruffled bed hair and sleepy annoyed expression Bellamy Blake looked like an oversized plush toy, not threatening at all.

“Go to sleep.”

Clarke waited for him to close his eyes again and this time she blew the hair away from his face.

“Clarke…” Pressed so close to him she could feel the vibrations from his chest when he growled warningly at her.

“I’m going to the crash scene tomorrow.”

Dark brown met deep blue.

She was serious.

“No.”

“Jasper said that he could cook us up some more gunpowder and Monty wanted to check the wreckage again for more spare parts so that he and Raven could make us walkie-talkies. We need to go.”

“You’re not going anywhere. The last time I let you out alone you got shot.”

She pushed him on his back and climbed over him. “You’re free to join us.”

Her hands were making slow work of his shirt and her mouth was hot against his skin. The barely there graze of her nails was driving him crazy. She left wet trails along his naked flesh and when her head levelled with his and Bellamy leaned in to kiss her, Clarke moved to the left and bit his earlobe.

“What are you playing at?” She laid sensual kisses down his neck.

“Seducing you in saying ‘yes’ to my demand.”

Clarke bit his Adam’s apple and then licked the pain away. Bellamy moved his hands to cradle her head and pull at her hair.

“I never thought that you’d play dirty, princess.”

She laughed against his neck and the hot air send shivers down his spine.

“Then think of it as a birthday gift.”

She leaned in to kiss him but he pulled back and quirked an eyebrow in question.

“If I have counted the days correctly” she looked at her watch – it was well past midnight, “my birthday is either today or tomorrow.”

“Then,” he overthrew her and took off his shirt. “let _me_ give _you_ a proper birthday present.”

Their next kiss was a battle for dominance, addicting dance of tongues. Bellamy barely let her breathe as he took her mouth again and again, the pleasure was making her dizzy and her vision was hazy with the sudden lust that clouded her senses. All she was aware of was her burning need to have Bellamy as close to her body as she could.

He pushed her legs apart and nestled against her aching core. Bellamy took a moment to compose himself and looked at Clarke and he nearly came right there and then. God, she was so beautiful laying there – her blue eyes were dark with desire, her hair was soft gold, her flushed cheeks and puffy lips added a debauched side to her otherwise angel look, and her body was a lure he didn’t want to resist. He needed to see her naked, writhing in pleasure under him. 

He desperately _needed_ to erase her nightmares, to put an end to her demons, to console her pain-filled heart.

He stole another kiss from her wet lips and the thin thread of saliva that connected them after they separated for oxygen went straight to his pulsing cock. There was something incredibly erotic in seeing her struggle for air, her pants echoing in the otherwise empty tent and the way her mouth formed a silent ‘o’ when she pushed against his hardness.

Her mewl of pleasure brought Bellamy out of his observation and he grinded against her clothed entrance.

Clarke’s shirt and underwear were off with great effort mainly due to the fact that they refused to put any kind of distance between them.

He nibbled on the side of her neck and sucked on the enchanting fair skin until he was satisfied with the dark mark he left behind. But one wasn’t enough so he moved down her chest and licked and bit playfully the sensitive skin of her breasts. A rather harsh tug of her erect nipples had her screaming his name and covering her mouth with her hands to mute the shameless moans that Bellamy invoked from her.

His fingers left ghost trails up and down her legs; he teased the skin behind her knees and rubbed her inner thighs, not once touching her where she most wanted him to. Bellamy moved his hands up along her ribcage, passing her soft firm breasts and moved her hands from her mouth.

He loved listening to the sounds she made, every little mewl and moan, every little embarrassed squeak, every demand for him to stop teasing her – right now they all belonged to him and he wanted to hear her pleasure-filled voice as she chanted his name.

Kissing her was better than breathing the fresh air of Earth.

Just when he thought he had rendered her boneless Clarke tugged down his boxers and used his momentarily surprise to push him on his back. She smiled devilishly at him when she moved her knees on either side of his hips and took him in her body in one swift movement.

Bellamy groaned – she was tight, hot, wet and perfect. And the view he had when she started moving up and down pushed him to his limit faster than he had ever expected.

Clarke felt his hands move up her legs to her waist to help her find a rhythm they could both enjoy. Her thighs were trembling from the effort and Clarke braced her hands on his chest. The new angle was even better and she moaned in approval when Bellamy moved his hips to meet her thrusts. Their game continued for what seemed like forever.

The stimulation was too much for Clarke and in two more thrusts she reached her peak.

Bellamy could only watch mesmerised as she arched her back from the bliss of her climax. Her nails were digging in his muscles and she was shaking from the pleasure onslaught, small droplets of perspiration decorating her silky skin.

He didn’t hold back and frankly he didn’t want to. He reached for her, yanked her head to take her lips with his and let his orgasm wash over him. His groan was lost in her luscious sweet mouth.

The shaky sloppy kisses continued for a while until they got down from their high.

Delightfully spent and tired Clarke laid on top of Bellamy, her head tucked securely under his jaw.

Once Bellamy got his breathing under control he hugged Clarke against his chest – her warm weight was his favourite blanket.

The scent of sex and sweat was noticeable in the small space around them and Bellamy couldn’t contain his smug expression when he noticed the same scent clinging to Clarke’s skin. She still had a faint fresh clean scent but now it was joined by the musky scent of their love-making and the smell of gunpowder and metal Bellamy usually carried with himself.

He had no rational explanation about it but he had the absurd drive to fill every part of Clarke with thought of him – her mind, her soul, her heart, he wanted them all for himself.

 Maybe it was because _she_ was constantly on his mind.

He didn’t care.

He simply wanted.

 “You look tired, princess. How was that for a birthday gift?” He smirked at her when she lifted her head to meet his eyes.

“Well,” her coy voice and mischievous smile had his attention. “I did expect something more… blinding.”

He was lost for words for a moment.

Then he turned them around and caged her within his arms.

“I’ll show you blinding.”

His burning kiss awoke her desire once again as he set to prove her just how much whiteness he could paint her world with.

Maybe it was love.

But Bellamy wasn’t ready for it and neither was Clarke.

For now the dancing of their bodies was enough.

-

It was rather early – Clarke’s watch showed little past eight.

The sky was still painted dark blue from where the night refused to relinquish control to the day.

But they had no time to spare.

They couldn’t afford it, not now when the Grounders had gone frighteningly silent.

The trek to the crash scene was fast and familiar, the path already well known.

Their team consisted of no more than ten people, yet Bellamy still felt uneasy about the situation.

In his opinion a measly bomb wasn’t enough to scare the Grounders for good, or for long.

Bellamy looked around the ship wreckage – it turned out that there were a lot more salvageable items than they thought at the beginning. The fires had died and the thick smoke was almost gone.

Jasper had gone off somewhere with two guards talking about some charcoal field the Exodus ship had crashed next to and incidentally exposed.

Monty was vigilantly looking for the black box of the Exodus ship and any other tech that had survived the blast and the heat and could still be useful in some way or another.

And Clarke – Bellamy looked up – right now she was standing on the highest point on the ground that overlooked the ship. She had circled the Exodus ship few times already.

He frowned; she was exposed to any sort of an ambush attack and the people around her were too far to actually cover her back and retaliate if she so happened to actually get hit again. He shouldered his rifle and started walking in her direction. It was only when he reached her that he noticed the way her head moved left and right, her lips silently forming words.

“Clarke?” She raised her hand to stop him from talking.

As he waited patiently for her to finish whatever she was doing, and being patient wasn’t his best character trait, Bellamy scanned their position. The woods seemed clear but with the way the Grounders moved, used the trees and camouflaged themselves one could never be truly sure.

The crunching of twigs and stones under shoes made Bellamy turn around and face Clarke.

“Count the bodies.”

Bellamy closed his mouth his question forgotten.

“What?”

“Count the bodies. Or maybe I should say the burned skeletons.” She nodded to the crash scene. “Come on, count them.”

She urged him closer to the edge of the crater and he gave in.

Counting dead people left an unpleasant taste in his mouth.

Just as he finished counting and was about to ask Clarke what was the meaning behind it, something in his mind clicked and he paused.

And he counted again.

And again.

“Well?” Clarke sounded impatient and Bellamy noticed the way she had fisted her shirt.

“Twenty-four.”

“This is the best spot to see most of them but the total number goes up to thirty-one.”

He wasn’t stupid; he knew exactly what she was getting at.

“You believe there are survivors.”

Clarke bit her lower lip and organaised her jumbled thoughts.

“I talked to Raven before we left. The Exodus ship has the capacity to host one hundred and twenty people at most and depending on the cargo the ship is carrying. And here,” her hands spread wide open to indicate the crater, “we have thirty corpses. Where are the others?”

She had a right – once the fire and the smoke were gone the ship ruins didn’t look as bad as they did. And if people had lived past the crash that would explain why they couldn’t find traces of some of the things they had requested from the Ark.

“You think she’s alive?” It was supposed to be a statement but it came out as a question.

“I don’t know.” Clarke shrugged. “If she was on this ship she might be dead. But if there are survivors she might be among them.” She met his gaze; her blue eyes were clear, strong and hopeful. “Even if she isn’t, there are still Ark people out there that are walking aimlessly. The Grounders won’t take pity on them. And we can get information on why is the Ark silent.” _On my mom._

Bellamy caught her elbow and squeezed in understanding. “We can’t afford to send people to look for possible survivors.”

She tried to object but he shook his head. “It’s a blind search, princess. The most that could happen is for us to crash a Grounders’ party or something and our numbers are already low. Losing people is not an option.”

“So if I was out there you wouldn’t come to look for me?”

Bellamy was saved from answering when Monty’s joyful scream resonated around the crater. He and Clarke switched their attention to the Asian boy in the distance that was waving his arms excitedly.

“I guess he found what he was looking for.”

Clarke hummed in agreement and made her way to Monty.

Bellamy slowly trailed after her.

If Clarke was missing he was going to go after her.

Right?

-

Upon entering the camp the first thing Clarke and Bellamy noticed was the utter chaos the hundred were a part of.

People were running all over the place, shouting orders and pleas for help. Buckets and containers with water and sand were passed from hand to hand.

Near the centre of the camp a dark line of grey smoke was the case of their panic.

Bellamy quickened his pace just in time to see Miller helping his sister out of the food shack which was set on fire. The flames licked at the wooden structure and burned the fresh meat inside.

That catch was supposed to last them for another week or two.

Bellamy pushed that thought aside and knelt next to Octavia whose breathing was laboured and she was coughing to try and clear her lungs. He didn’t even have to turn around – Clarke was at his side immediately with a water can in her good hand.

She helped Octavia drink little bit of the cool liquid and talked to her until Bellamy’s sister felt better.

“What the fuck happened here?” Bellamy looked at Miller and then his eyes shifted to Murphy who was standing behind his second-in-command.

As if that was his cue Murphy moved forward and hit one of the bystanders.

“This is all your fault. She told you that it was too much wood.”

“Get away from me!”

Murphy punched the guy and Bellamy stood up and got between the two of them.

“Hey. Hey! Stop!” He pushed Murphy back. “Save it for the Grounders.”

“Bell, now what the hell are we going to do? That was _all_ the food.”

Bellamy looked at Octavia – she had the same grim expression as Clarke.

It took a while for the fire to die down even with the interference of the hundred. The water and the dirt they threw at the shack wasn’t enough to save the food, all that was left after the blaze was only burned wood and charred bones.

He was poking the smoking mess when the light touch on his shoulder indicated that the person behind him was Clarke.

“Any idea what led to this?”

“According to Murphy, Del kept feeding the fire, mostly because Octavia told him it was a bad idea.”

The trend for some of the hundred to pick on his sister when he wasn’t around was getting on Bellamy’s nerves. She was under his protection and nobody had the right to mess with her. Not now, not ever.

“And we believe him?”

“Do we have a choice?”

Clarke sighed and massaged her wounded arm. “We have some wild onions and nuts in the dropship. It’s only enough to last us one, maybe two weeks.”

From her tone and expression he knew what she was hinting at.

“You want us to hunt.”

“We won’t get the needed energy to fight the Grounders from simple nuts and onions. If we’re starving, we’re as good as dead.”

Bellamy thought about it – he could send small teams to hunt close by. He would give them guns in case they encounter Grounders, the shot will warn the camp as well.

They required solid food if they had to fight.

“Fine.” He nodded. “Meet me in the dropship in a few.”

Clarke checked on Octavia once more but she was fine, mostly angry and irked.

She met Raven on the way to the dropship. The mechanic had taken the job to talk with the girls and note down the females using the pill and the ones who have had the vaccine. Raven assured her that the list was mostly done and the results weren’t as bad as they had imagined them to be.

At least something less to worry about.

With that in mind Clarke headed to the shuttle.

-

Raven looked around – after Bellamy’s speech one third of the hundred had assembled in mostly two-man teams and were slowly leaving camp to hunt.

Finn was getting his gear ready next to her.

“You’re going then?”

He looked up from the spear he was inspecting.

“I’m one of the best trackers we have. It’s only natural.”

He was doing what he was best at, Raven knew that but something still nagged at her in the back on her mind. She reached to straighten his jacket out of habit. It was only when her hand was on his chest that her mind processed her act.

Raven pulled her hand back and busied herself with checking over the list in her pocket.

Finn watched her the whole time but didn’t say a word about her sudden withdraw.

“I’ll be back later today.”

She smoothed the wrinkles out of the paper.

“Good luck.”

Finn wavered for a moment but in the end he leaned closer and pecked her cheek in goodbye.

Even heartbroken Raven couldn’t stop her hand from rising and touching the place he had kissed.

But the simple happiness from that innocent act died when he saw that Finn left with Clarke.

The crane burned against the skin of her chest.

She had a list to complete.

And Bellamy had mentioned something about Monty finding enough parts to finally build walkie-talkies.

Work first, love later.

-

They had walked for nearly an hour when Clarke came to the conclusion that taking Myles with them was both a blessing and a curse. The kid could speak a thousand words per minute. It was a miracle that they were actually able to follow a fresh trail with all the noise he was raising.

On one hand she didn’t want to be alone with Finn and she was grateful that Myles had a way to break the awkward tension between her and Finn.

But on the other hand Myles was useless. He jumped at every sound that came out of the woods and at times Clarke could hear the gun rattling from his shaking. Apparently he was a scaredy-cat and his bravest and most reckless action had landed him in jail.

Clarke’s definition for bravery was different from Myles’ – getting caught trying to sneak in the Armory was stupid, not brave.

But often one could mean the other.

Finn kneeled down to one of the trails.

“-it’s going to sound gross but-“ Clarke raised her hand to stop Myles’ never-ending screed.  

“Myles, be quiet for one second.” She smiled patronisingly at the young teen and then moved to crouch next to Finn. “What is it?”

“The trails,” Finn’s fingers traced the outline of the footprints. “they look too…perfect. No animal is that careful.”

Finn’s words made Clarke’s hair stand on end. That didn’t bode well.

“We should head back.”

Finn had only just agreed with her suggestion when the sharp sound of an arrow piercing the air had them looking for cover.

Myles wasn’t fast enough and a moment later a second arrow hit him.

Clarke scrambled to her feet and went to check on him but Finn’s iron grip on her hand didn’t let her get close.

“We don’t have time for him.”

She felt disgusted with herself for siding with Finn but he had a point. Clarke had yet to take another step when the big body of a Grounder blocked her path.

The Grounder lifted his hand and Clarke was too late in blocking or ducking his punch. Pain blossomed in her temple and in the back of her head where her scull connected with the ground.

Finn’s scream was muted and buzzed.

Her consciousness was slipping away.

The vibrations of something else hitting the earth hard travelled up her body and instinctively Clarke knew that Finn was captured as well.

The last thing she saw before the blackness completely took over was the stormy cold face of Anya.

Well, fuck.

-

Waking up from a hit to the head was very unpleasant and was something that Clarke had hoped to never experience again.

One Dax was enough.

But as her head pulsed she figured that at least Dax had used less strength than the Grounder.

Finn was slowly waking up next to her.

Clarke tried to figure out where they were and how far from their original stop they had travelled but everything looked different and at the same time similar.

Woods were pain in the ass when you weren’t really familiar with them.

Her hands were tightly bound with a rope, the end of which was in Anya’s hand.

Clarke resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Fucking perfect.

It just couldn’t get any worse than this.

Then the Grounder that had sent her unconscious neared her and yanked her to her feet. Finn’s wakeup call was harsher under the form of a kick to the stomach. He groaned in pain and rolled to one side. A hard tug on his rope had him up one way or another.

Clarke winced in sympathy but refrained from asking Finn how he was feeling. Anya was giving her the evil eye.  

They walked for another hour, maybe two. Clarke’s watch was under her jacket’s sleeve and with her bound hands she couldn’t take it out to check the time. But judging by the fading light the night was upon them.

So much for promising Bellamy to stay out of trouble.

Walking on foot while being constantly pulled here and there by a rope tied around your hands was not something that was on Clarke’s ‘fun things to do’ list. Her feet were killing her and the skin around her wrists was sore from the rope, the constant movement brought unpleasant burn.

Finn’s worried glances in her direction helped keep her mind sharp and away from her headache.

A while later they neared what Clarke figured it was a concrete building that had survived the Cataclysm mostly unaffected.

Anya and their Grounder guards disappeared inside leaving Clarke and Finn alone.

“I think we’ve walked around three miles before we-“

Clarke interrupted Finn’s whispering. “I don’t think it matters. If they didn’t want us to know about this place they could have blindfolded us.”

Finn looked scared once Clarke’s implication hit him.

The Grounders were going to kill them.

They needed to run away, some way to get as far from here as possible. A diversion of some sort.

But as he was desperately thinking of and discarding useless plans the Grounders came back and pushed them into the building.

The inside was grey and dark; various items littering the walls and the small crevices. It was obvious that this was used as a living space or at least some kind of storage.

Clarke didn’t have much time to look around because Anya was suddenly in front of her and Finn and the wicked gleaming short sword she was wielding in her hand was of bigger interest to Clarke than the small trinkets on the floor.

As Anya neared, sword in hand, Clarke knew that talking and pleading was useless.

The Grounders knew no mercy.

Finn struggled against the hold of his guard but the Grounder holding him was too strong.

Clarke lifted her head; if she was about to die she was going to be proud of the fact that she had been a constant torn in Anya’s side and had created so many troubles for the Grounder’s leader. And if she was about to die she was going to curse Anya to meet her end by one of hundred’s hand, preferably Bellamy’s.

But even as she braced herself for the blow, she wasn’t ready to have her rope cut.

 Wasn’t that a nice turn of events?

Clarke was lost in thoughts and was rubbing her sore wrists when Anya lifted her sword once again and pointed behind her.

Clarke froze.

There, on a stone bed lined with furs laid a small pale girl.

Charlotte.

-

Having Murphy tell her that Clarke was taking care of her boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) was the last thing Raven wanted to hear that night.

She had completed the list, let Octavia rant and had persuaded Monty that they should take apart the radio to make the walkie-talkies; the Ark was silent as ever anyway.

But watching the other hunter teams come back one by one made Raven nauseas.

_“Let me fix this.”_

Yeah, right.

Why did she have to believe Finn and his seemingly earnest expression?

Raven knew it was going to end like this.

Her feeling and thoughts were in turmoil.

She needed silence, and she needed to vent and she needed to feel.

Raven hardened her heart and pushed her tears away. She had cried more than enough because of Finn Collins. It was time to get over him.

Her feet took her to Bellamy’s tent and Raven didn’t think twice before entering.

She caught him in the process of undressing – his rifle was propped up against his bed, his jacket was already unzipped and off, he had just unlaced his boots.

He looked at her in expectation.

“They don’t waste time, I’ll give them that.”

Bellamy sat on his bed and lifted an eyebrow in question.

 Raven rolled her eyes. “I’m talking about Finn and Clarke.”

For a moment Bellamy’s heart came to a stop but then he pushed the jealousy and the worry away. Clarke wouldn’t cheat on him, not after what they had been through the last couple of days, not after the wonderful night they had had together.

“What’s it been? A day? A day and a half?”

“You’re mistaking me for somebody who cares. I don’t think that Clarke will start anything with Finn. Your boyfriend on the other hand, that’s another story.”

Raven’s fierce expression didn’t change.

“Raven, get over him.”

Thinking on it maybe Bellamy shouldn’t have said that. If he had to get over Clarke it would definitely take more than day and a half; and even if he had constant bed partners like he used to that still wouldn’t heal the chasm left behind by his princess. It was a good thing he had no plans of letting her go.

It was as if his words were the deciding factor for Raven.

She shrugged off her jacket, took off her shoes and unbuttoned her jeans.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting over him.” Her jeans were off.

“If you look for someone to talk you down you got the wrong person.” Bellamy sighed and put his shoes back on. “That’s the thing I would usually say. But I’m seeing somebody right now and she’ll have my head if I even think about cheating on her, let alone do it, and honestly I don’t want to.”

Raven huffed in mock-frustration. Of course, she had to go and seek sexual company from the notorious womaniser of the camp and he had to sprout some dignified speech about being faithful.  

Who the hell had managed to put a stop to Bellamy’s playboy days?

And then something clicked.

_“If it helps ease your mind I’m currently involved with somebody else.”_

Who else but Clarke Griffin. Was there a man that could resist her charm?

Raven wanted to laugh and she did. God, was there no way to get away from Clarke’s shadow?

“You shouldn’t worry about it. Besides, Myles was part of their group as well.”

Her laughter came to a sudden halt.

If Finn and Clarke weren’t late because they were having secret sex somewhere in the woods then what was their excuse for taking so long?

“Their team is the only one still out.”

Bellamy snapped his head back.

“What?”

Raven barely had the time to nod and cover herself when Bellamy stormed out of the tent.

His heart was beating wildly. He had lost track of time and hadn’t realised that his princess was still gone.

“Miller!”

He looked around but he couldn’t see the beanie of his second-in-command.

But Harper’s advice proved useful and he found Miller on patrol on the west side of the camp.

“Are Clarke and Finn back yet?”

Miller looked surprised by Bellamy’s sharp question but he regained composure fast enough to answer.

“No, they’re still out.”

Bellamy felt the panic creeping in his veins.

Finn was an excellent tracker and Clarke knew better than to stay outside the walls at night.

They hadn’t heard a gunshot but that didn’t matter because deep down Bellamy was sure.

Sure, that Clarke was missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I mentioned in the beginning my exams start soon, to be exact they start from the 10th of June and end on the 8th of July. I have to pass six exams and because of that my updates will be sparse and few in between, if I have the time to update at all. Bear with me, once my session is over all I'll do is write ;)  
> This chapter was longer to apologize for my disappearance in the near future <3 (besides, deep down we all love smut).  
> That was all for now, folks.  
> See you next time (hopefully soon!)  
> \- M.


	10. Birthday Troubles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you seeing correctly, it this really an update? Yes! Fear no more, your eyes aren't deceiving you! (and I desperately need sleep). Sorry for the long absence but from my seven (officially six) exams I've passed five successfully and I have two more to go, so the wait is nearly over before I'm back to a more normal updating schedule.  
> So, um, yeah, enjoy this loooooongish update (20 pages on Word...) and accept my sincere apologies for not updating sooner <3

The first thing Bellamy did when he found out that Clarke, Finn and Myles were missing was to order a lockdown on the whole camp, _again_.

Well, no.

The first thing he really did was to freak out. Badly.

The second was to order Miller to up the defence.

The third, after he had some time to gather his thoughts and push the overwhelming panic behind stone walls, was to go and find his sister.

And for the first time in forever he found her immediately.

“Bellamy?”

Octavia peered at her brother’s worried face and reached her hand to brush away the wrinkles in his forehead.

“What’s wrong?”

“Clarke, Finn and Myles are still out.”

Octavia’s mind raced over the possibilities. Finn and Clarke both knew that staying outside after dark the walls was a suicide, especially after the whole bridge accident and the virus and then the bomb.

“You think the Grounders have them.”

It wasn’t a question but Bellamy nodded his affirmation anyway.

“Let me grab my things. I’m coming with you.” There was no doubt that her brother would go after them.

She was just about to turn around and enter her tent when his hand on her elbow stopped her.

“No, you’re not coming with us.”

“What? No, I-“

But his grip only tightened and his desperate gaze didn’t let her get a word out.

“No. You’ll go and try to find Lincoln.”

It was physically paining him to do this, to send his little sister out in the night to talk to a Grounder. It was dangerous, it was reckless, and it was insane. But it also might turn out to be their only chance to find Clarke’s group.

“Find him and tell him that the Grounders have few of ours. Ask for his help. If he refuses, beg him to tell you where they might be holding them.”

Octavia’s heartbeat was going so fast and loud she was sure Bellamy could hear it.

Her brother actually trusted her with something _important_ here. He trusted her to sneak out and come back unharmed, he trusted her to be in Lincoln’s presence, he trusted her that she could take care of herself.

The responsibility he gave her was both freeing and burdening. But she wouldn’t trade it for nothing else.

She would never let him down.

_“Come with me.”_

Octavia knew that Lincoln was supposed to be long gone, travelling east to try and reached the other tribe, but she couldn’t tell that to her brother, not when this was his silver lining, his last resort.

So instead Octavia nodded and hugged her brother and pleaded with the sky to grant her a meeting with Lincoln.

“I’ll try to find him.”

Bellamy hugged her back.

“You’ll only go to his cave. Promise me.” She wanted to complain but if she did, then she would have to give him a reason for that.

She agreed, “I promise.”

He kissed the top of her head and held her closer for another minute or two and then let her go and with one last glance Bellamy turned around and left.

And Octavia got her knife and sneaked out through one of the tunnels they had built just yesterday morning.

-

“Charlotte.”

The name slipped from her lips without Clarke’s consent.

Anya narrowed her eyes but the arm holding the sword never wavered.

“Her name is Tris.”

The Grounder leader moved back and Clarke’s guard pushed her closer to the stone table.

Clarke’s eyes greedily and desperately took in the body in front of her – the girl was taller than Charlotte and seeing her from up-front Clarke was once again painfully reminded that Charlotte was dead. The girl, Tris, reminded her of Charlotte because of the shade of her hair and her posture. But after a careful thorough inspection Clarke could see where the similarities ended and the differences between the two girls began, Tris’ features the most obvious of all.

Finn shuffled his feet behind her and Clarke turned to face their captors.

Anya had sheathed her sword and the intense look in her eyes had Clarke straightening her back on focusing on the situation and not on the heavily breathing girl behind her.

“You’re here to help her live.” Her voice brooked no arguments, not that Clarke was in the condition to voice any.

“What’s wrong with her?”

One of the guards moved closer and Finn winced when the rope around his hands tightened.

“She was on the bridge when you decided to blow it.” The accusation hurt more than Clarke expected, the consequences from their actions were wrapped in the form of the little girl that was fighting for her life next to Clarke.

But they had done what they had to survive. A necessary evil, one that would haunt her nights, but an obligation they couldn’t afford to turn their backs on, after all the camp survived thanks to that same bomb.

Every action had a repercussion and this was theirs.

“You let your young fight?” The indictment left a bitter taste in Clarke’s mouth and she fought to hide her flinch when Anya’s eyes flashed with anger and the Grounders’ leader entered her personal space.

Clarke held her ground against the weight of Anya’s fury and simply watched Anya bare her teeth at her like a cornered animal ready to lash out.

“She was, _is_ my second-in-command. Her place is right beside me. Here, on Earth, you learn to survive early on, or you don’t live to see the sunrise.”

Clarke felt nauseous because of Anya’s words and she was vaguely aware of Finn voicing her disgust. Was this what Earth had turned into? A place inhabited by ruthless savages and kid soldiers? Was there truly nothing good and innocent left on this planet? Did the Cataclysm take everything from these people, even their hearts?

She had a lot to say on that matter but Anya’s patience had run out.

“Help her live,” the Grounder that held Finn prisoner pushed him forward, “or he dies for your mistakes.”

Finn’s pupils grew in fear as he swung his head back and forth from Clarke to Anya and the other way around.

“And you think I can fix her?”

“You’re a healer, are you not?”

Finn’s guard sliced the rope wrapped around his wrists as the other Grounder dropped a bag in Clarke’s feet, the sound of metal making Clarke assume that it held some tools.

Anya didn’t stick to see Clarke open the bag and cringe at the mostly useless instruments she had been given. There were two scalpels, an old big metal syringe, what looked like pliers and smaller tongs, a pair of scissors and a rusted hammer. No needles, no thread, nothing that could actually make this hopeless endeavour look less like a dead end.

Still, Clarke got in her medic mind-set and tried to calm down her fried nerves. She had to make this work.

Or Finn was going to die.

Her hand was steady when she reached for the scissors and Finn came with her to have a look at Tris, their guards not far behind, hands on their weapons in case their prisoners tried something.

Finn was quiet as he let Clarke gauge Tris’ condition.

And Clarke did just that.

The girl breathed heavily and her temperature was higher than normal, her pulse was erratic and ran faster than the norm. Clarke carefully laid her head on Tris’ ribs and let her ear rest over the girl’s chest to check her lungs. It was hard to hear anything when her patient was breathing so desperately and noisily and when Clarke tried to let more of her weight rest on Tris’ chest, the girl whimpered in pain. 

Clarke drew back and let her fingers skimp over the right side of Tris’ ribcage. Everything seemed normal until Clarke got to the left side and Tris’ small frame was wrecked with painful tremors.

Clarke stilled and closed her eyes; Finn looked at her in concern.

“How did she get hurt?”

“The blast of the explosion threw her off her horse and her back hit a tree.” One of the Grounders answered Clarke’s question.

A fractured rib then, maybe two or three on the right side and at least one broken from where she had hit the tree. And Clarke had no way of making sure that her lungs weren’t punctured and that Tris wasn’t slowly chocking on her own blood or that her lungs weren’t about to collapse any moment now, which was just as bad as the other options.

Clarke cut through Tris’ shirt and pushed the cloth away, revealing dark blue and purple bruises littering most of her left side, the trail going around her side and as Clarke, with Finn’s help, raised Tris’ upper body from the table, she could see that her back was in the same condition if not worse.

The only thing that Clarke was grateful for was the fact that there were no bones sticking out of her skin.

What she heard when she checked Tris’ breathing again made her freeze.

“Clarke?” Finn’s concerned voice helped her shake off the dread and to demarcate as much as she could Tris’ pain from her own fear.

“The force of the blast fractured at least one or two ribs and possibly broke one. The trauma led to liquid pressing on her lungs and she can’t breathe. She’s going to choke.”

Finn squeezed her shoulder in silent support and Clarke hurried over to the bag with the tools to look for something that could help in this situation.

“I need seaweed water or something that has antibacterial properties.”

The two guards glanced at each other in wordless communication and one of them left to fulfil Clarke’s demand.

She clutched one of the scalpels in hand and dug deeper in the bag. She needed something with which she could try and relieve the pressure and drain the fluid. Clarke was about to give up when she nearly nicked her finger on something sharp.

She frowned, drew her hand out and emptied the bag on the floor. A small metal cylinder dropped next to her knee. And the size of the hole it had was just perfect for the thing she had in mind.

The guard came back with a bucket filled with seaweed water and Clarke hurried to it. Finn grabbed an empty can and poured some of the water over her arms and then helped her clean the scalpel and the tube as much as it was possible .

Clarke still wasn’t satisfied with the level of hygiene and let the two metal tools go over the flame of a nearby candle. Out of other options for sanitising her chosen instruments, Clarke turned around and reached Tris.

Finn held the ruined pieces of her shirt away from Clarke’s wandering fingers and gaze, as Clarke counted in her head and imagined which ribs exactly were busted and where most likely the fluid could be gathered.

On the fifth rib her hand stopped and she reached for the scalpel and made a big enough opening for the cylinder. The momentary uncomfortable feel of skin giving under her medical blade was pushed aside as Clarke directed her attention to getting the tube inside Tris’ body, hoping that her calculations weren’t far off.

When blood started trickling from the tube Clarke breathed a sigh of relief. She glanced around the run down building and her gaze landed on a brown piece of cloth.

Clarke reached for it, found it adequate and washed it few times with the seaweed water. After that, she gently wiped the blood from the cut away and secured it around the grey cylinder.

Only then she allowed herself to relax a bit and smile crookedly at Finn.

The crisis was averted.

For now.

-

“Are you sure this is the right way?”

The walkie-talkie in Bellamy’s hand crackled when Raven asked the same question she did two minutes ago.

He got the fact that she was feeling agitated and perturbed, just like all of them – meaning Jasper, Monty, Harper and Bellamy – but that didn’t give her the excuse to drive everyone crazy with her constant chatter and obvious scepticism. “Yes, Raven, Miller said that they went this way and we found footprints half a mile back.”

Maybe his response was too biting and harsh because the line felt silent and Harper made a little noise of discontent behind his back.

The groups were three in the hopes they could cover more ground but they still kept close enough for the walkie-talkies to be in range of one another. Harper was with Bellamy, Jasper and Raven were together and Monty was alone.

Bellamy didn’t want to leave him alone but the boy insisted and then didn’t oppose Bellamy’s decision to keep him in the back in case something happened.

“I’m sorry.” Raven’s voice washed over the quiet clearing Bellamy and Harper found themselves in. “I’m just worried for Finn and Clarke an-“

The signal stopped and Bellamy stood still.

Harper looked at him and clenched her rifle closer.

Bellamy brought the walkie-talkie to his mouth and pushed the button to send his message across. “Raven?”

No answer.

“Jasper? Monty?”

“I’m here.” Monty responded sounding more subdued than usual.

“Raven?” Bellamy tried again.

He had started turning around in Raven and Jasper’s direction, Harper hot on his heels, when the walkie-talkie came to life once again.

“There’s something in the bushes in front of us.” Raven’s voice was hushed and strained.

A lump got stuck in Bellamy’s throat and he had to swallow several times until he found his voice again.

“Don’t shoot unless you’re one hundred percent sure it’s an enemy. Jasper, do you hear me? Don’t shoot. I’m coming.”

His careful steps turned to a brisk walk and Bellamy had to remind himself that being quiet was of upmost importance in this case and that rushing head first in an unknown situation could make things worse. Harper’s nervous breathing and the rustling of her clothes helped to ground him and stop him from breaking into a run.

At the pace they were going it took them no more than five minutes to find Jasper and Raven’s trail and then another two to join them in hiding behind few closely situated trees.

“Where?”

Jasper raised his hand to point in the correct direction, his rifle not once wavering from his target.

Bellamy followed his finger and his gaze fell on a thick green bush that moved from time to time. He motioned to Raven and the two of them stood and took few steps closer, Jasper covered them from the right and Harper from the left.

Bellamy made a silent count with his fingers to three and once he hit the last digit, Raven pushed the vegetation away and Bellamy thrust the muzzle of his gun in the opening.

And his finger froze on the trigger.

Myles’ frightened eyes were staring back, his arms up in a placating gesture with two arrows sticking from his body.

Bellamy sighed loudly, lowered his gun and waved off the others to do the same.

“It’s Myles.”

Raven peeked from next to him. Her face reflected exactly what he felt – relief from finding Myles still alive and concern and painful panic for the fact that he was alone and there was no sign of Clarke or Finn.

She asked anyway, “Finn and Clarke?”

Myles shook his head. “The Grounders took them; some blond-haired chick and two big guys.”

Bellamy felt his heart give a painful thud. Then another.

Why the fuck would Anya go out all the way to capture them personally?

He turned around, Jasper was busy taking out his rope out of his bag and Harper was keeping a lookout.

“Monty, we found Myles. He’s hurt and we have to take him back to camp.” Bellamy couldn’t hide his grimace; he would like nothing else then to keep looking for them but if the Grounders had them then they needed more manpower. Besides, the night was dark, the moon hidden behind dense clouds and unless they wanted to risk lighting torches and attracting unnecessary attention, they would have to postpone the rescue mission. Myles needed help for his wounds as well.

When he didn’t get a response from the Asian boy, he tried again.

“Monty, did you hear me?”

Silence.

Raven looked up from where she was crouched down to Myles and she tried to listen for any alien noise coming from the forest.

Another missing person was not what they needed and Bellamy’s painstakingly constructed and kept brave facade slowly started to crumble. His voice cracked, “Monty?”

Jasper stopped his attempt to try and wove the rope around two thick fallen branches in the hope to create a crude stretcher and focused his attention on Bellamy and the walkie-talkie in his hand.

It took forever until the walkie-talkie crackled again and Monty’s shaken voice greeted their ears.

“Bellamy, you might want to hear this.”

-

Anya was back in the room and it grated on Clarke’s nerves.

The female Grounder had the ability to scrutinise every twitch of her fingers and find her incompetent, lacking, not worth her attention.

The whole breathing down her neck thing only served to irk Clarke and it reminded her what was at stake; in this particular situation that was Finn’s life.

She went to check on Tris. The girl was breathing visibly easier but Clarke was still worried – the tube still leaked blood and Clarke was afraid that at some point the blood loss would be too great. But if she was to take the cylinder out she had no way of knowing if that was all the liquid that had pressured Tris’ lungs, if there was an internal bleeding or if her lung had been punctured by a broken rib.

From her observations, it wasn’t the latter, thank god for small miracles. However, Tris’ temperature had dropped drastically and she looked paler than before – the blood loss was getting to her.

Clarke weighted her options and called Finn closer.

“What’s wrong?”

“She’s losing too much blood. We’re taking out the cylinder.”

Finn looked conflicted for a moment and glanced back at Anya, then at Tris.

“You think that’s a good idea?”

Clarke bit her lip. Frankly, no, it was a terrible idea. The whole thing was doomed from the beginning to fail. She lacked the proper medical equipment to deal with something as severe as this but she didn’t tell him that, she couldn’t. She had to be a miracle worker; she had to make this work. Finn’s death was not an option here. There was no way she was going to face Bellamy, to face Raven and the rest and tell them that Finn was dead because of her inability to save one little girl.

So she gritted her teeth and nodded ‘yes’.

“Okay. Good. Okay.” Finn went to wash his hands and Clarke did the same.

Then she gave him one of the scalpels and told him to heat it over one of the candles until the metal was white and red. Clarke couldn’t stitch the wound so she was going to cauterise it and pray that it would stop the bleeding and that it would be enough.

“Ready?” Clarke’s hand hovered over the tube uncertainly.

Finn let the flame lick the scalpel few more times and winced at the uncomfortable feeling of holding hot metal in his bare hands. “Yeah.”

“On three then.” She undid the wet, bloodied cloth and moved it out of the way. “One, two, three-“

She pulled the grey cylinder with and a sickening amount of blood gushed out of the small cut. Clarke was fast to pour some seaweed water over the wound the clear the blood away and it was then when Finn reached across and pasted the hot scalpel flush against Tris’ skin. The girl moaned in pain but Clarke held her steady and Finn pushed the metal even more, the smell of burned flesh and blood made their eyes water.

Finn held the scalpel in place for the total of thirty seconds and then pulled it away, leaving irritated black and red flesh behind. Clarke didn’t seem all that bothered by that as she delicately poked around the wound to make sure the bleeding had stopped. Satisfied with the job she grabbed some of the seaweeds submerged in the water in the bucket, shook the excess water away, put it over the burned flesh and secured the whole thing with another piece of cloth that went over Tris’ torso and back.

Clarke was busy washing the blood from her hands when Finn’s alarmed cry made her look at him.

He had his hands on the sides of Tris’ head, trying to stop her shaking.

Clarke was next to them in an instant, taking in the even paler complexity of Tris, her sweat covered skin, the tremor in her muscles. Her pulse was getting weaker with every beat of her heart and Clarke was getting hysteric.

This was not supposed to happen.

Nothing of this was supposed to happen.

Clarke glanced at the pool of blood in her feet, Tris’ blood; the girl had lost too much.

Her mind was pushing the limits of her limited knowledge to come up with a solution to their suddenly disastrous situation. She had done everything possible to try and save Tris, couldn’t Anya see that? There was no way the shaking girl in her arms could survive the night, her body was put under too much stress and pain to deal with her blood loss. If she could get blood transfusion then maybe she had a chance bu-

Clarke pulled away from the table and sought out the syringe she had seen earlier. It was their only chance.

She found it next to the hammer, under the bag, and wasted no time in washing it with the antibacterial water.

Then she turned to Finn.

“What’s your blood type?”

“AB positive.”

 _Fuck_. 

Clarke was O negative.

They needed a person with O positive to be sure that Tris’ body wouldn’t reject the blood.

She contemplated to ask Anya because she was of the same tribe but then decided against it. If they didn’t know what electricity was there was no way they knew about blood types or how to find out in which blood group they belonged to.

Clarke heated the needle over the flickering flame of the candle and waited until the metal was back to its natural colour and no longer hot.

The needle broke her skin fairly easily and Finn helped her pull the piston back at a slow pace, drawing her blood in the process. The feeling was unpleasant and her left hand, from which Finn was getting her blood, prickled with pins and needles, leaving her fingers feeling cold and numb.

The syringe was barely half full when Tris started shaking uncontrollably. Clarke yanked the needle out of her arm and out of Finn’s hand and turned to face Tris.

The needle was just about to enter one of Tris’ veins when the shaking stopped as abruptly as it had started.

Clarke’s lungs stopped working as dread made her hand shake when she checked Tris’ pulse.

Or more like the lack of it.

Because Tris was no longer among the living.

-

Bellamy listened carefully to Monty’s shaking voice as he related his story for the five minutes he had gone silent.

Looking around, the older Blake saw flabbergasted faces and mouths open in shock; even Myles had stopped complaining about his pain.

The information Monty gave them was frankly unbelievable.

“What do you want me to do?”

Bellamy shook off his amazement.

“Go, see if it’s true. Keep your walkie-talkie on. I expect an update every half an hour until you reach your destination and then I want a report on state of things. We’ll take Myles back to the camp and continue our search in the morning. Hopefully Octavia had more luck than we did.”

“Copy that. I’ll let you know how things are going in half an hour.” Bellamy’s walkie-talkie fell silent after that.

He looked at the small rescue group.

“What you heard right now never happened. Until we’re sure about this, the info Monty provided doesn’t exist, _they_ don’t exist. We can’t afford to pummel the camp in chaos over something that can turn out to be a useless venture.”

Jasper and Raven wanted to object but knew better than to try and Bellamy cowered in submission Harper and Myles.

Monty could be their trick card.

Or their doom.

It was too soon to decide which was more likely.

“Good.” The tension in his shoulders had led to cramps in his back muscles and Bellamy hid a wince when he accidentally pulled one of them. “Back to camp then.” He shouldered his rifle and went to help Jasper with the stretcher.

Few minutes later and they moved Myles on it and each healthy person grabbed one end of branches and lifted him off the ground.

Bellamy looked around the woods for the last time that night and left.

Clarke was alive.

He knew that.

And he was going to get her.

No matter what.

-

They didn’t get any warning.

One moment Finn and Clarke were looming over Tris’ white unmoving body, and in the next second they were grabbed by their respective guards and Anya’s curved wicked sword was out.

Unlike Clarke’s speculation she didn’t gut them with it.

No, Anya moved closer to Tris, caressed her face and fixed her hair; she used her sword to cut off one of Tris’ many braids and tucked it inside her vest. Then she put her sword away and lifted Tris in her arms, carrying her bridal style.

She passed by Finn and Clarke and barely paid them any attention; all that mattered to Anya was the dead girl in her arms.

However, she did stop before she exited the room and turned to look at Clarke.

“That girl, Charlotte, we found her.”

Shock and denial hit Clarke’s system but she didn’t have time to process Anya’s words because of her next command.

“Kill him.” Clarke felt the blood drain from her face.

“No, no, _no_! Pease don’t, I did everything I could. Don’t kill him.” Her struggles against the hold of her guard were useless, Anya refused to hear her words and Finn stood frozen in place.

Then the other Grounder started dragging him out of the tent and Clarke renewed her grapple but her guard’s hold never wavered.

“Clarke, don’t. It’s okay, you did perfectly. Don’t fight, they’ll hurt you. Don-“ Finn’s last words got lost as his guard pulled him out of the room and yanked him to his death.

“FINN!”

Clarke’s voice was hoarse from screaming, her left arm throbbed with pain both from her arrow injury and from the iron-clad grip the Grounder had on her elbow.

But it didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered.

Finn was gone.

The Grounder released her when he felt the fight leave her body.

Was this the end?

Would Anya come back and announce her death sentence as well?

What was Clarke supposed to do?

_“My brave princess.”_

Clarke fought back a sob. Bellamy. Of course. He always knew when she needed him even when she didn’t know it herself.

The guard watched her and followed her movements as Clarke sorted out her messy hair.

“You should join us.” She turned to look at him and her puzzlement must have been pretty obvious because he elaborated. “Our healer is gone and we could use one. Just listen to Anya and-“ he hesitated, “forget about the rest. Come tomorrow night and they will be gone.”

Forget about Bellamy? About Raven and Octavia? About Jasper, Monty and Miller? About Finn? About all the other scared teenagers that looked up to her? Like hell she was going to do that.

She was getting out of here, one way or another. She was nobody’s property.

The metal surface of the scalpel glinted under the faint glow of the candle.

An image popped up in her mind and a plan started formulating in her head.

“Tris had these… circularly-shaped scars. How did she get them?”

“Those are badges of honour, one per every kill she had made on the battlefield.”

How barbaric.

Clarke closed her eyes and tried to steady her heart. She couldn’t afford mistakes with this. The scalpel in her hand weighted heavily on her mind, especially when she knew what she was going to use it for.

She was a medic, a healer; she knew how to fix people, how to get them back on their feet. But because of that she also knew where to hit to do the most damage possible.

Her gaze met that of the Grounder.

“What’s your name?”

“Gard.”

“How many do you have?”

He was confident when he took off his breastplate made of bones and pulled down his shirt to show her the left side of his upper chest. It was littered with numerous scars.

“Even with my knee giving me troubles I’m still one of the best.”

That was her opening. Clarke had no time to stop and think which knee was the unhealthy one, she acted on instinct.

She kicked his right kneecap with all her might and rejoiced in the sound of broken bones and the cry that left Gard’s mouth. He slouched down, the perfect height, really, and Clarke swung her arm, scalpel out and the sharp blade ran a red line across his throat.

She clamped his mouth shut with her hand and bushed him back until he hit the wall, rattling the little trinkets and making some of them fall-over.

Clarke felt empty, dazed as she watched the life leave his eyes.

Only when she was sure that he was truly dead did she pull her arm back and moved away.

She stood like that for a while until a howl somewhere in the darkness broke the spell and Clarke was out of the building and running.

She did spare few precious seconds to look for Finn but there was no signs of him or the Grounder. Anya had disappeared as well.

Her arm under the bandage burned, her legs burned, her lungs burned, the scalpel in her arm burned, everything _burned_ , yet Clarke didn’t stop running.

She had to go back.

She had to warn them, to save them.

She _had_ to.

Her mind was hopelessly trying to draw a map of the path they had taken so that she could trace the way back but in the middle of the night everything looked the same, smelled the same, sounded the same.

When the muscles in her legs started shaking Clarke stopped her mad sprint.

It was then when the tears came as she accepted what she had done.

She had killed.

But it wasn’t Atom that begged her to put him out of his misery and it wasn’t Dax who was going to kill Bellamy if she hadn’t pulled the trigger.

No, it was a person that had shown her his throat and she had gone for the kill.

No second thoughts, no regrets.

And she knew that if given the chance she would do it again.

She mourned his death as much as she mourned Finn.

As much as she mourned the loss of her innocence.

Had Earth really changed her that much?

But her inner monologue was cut short when she heard something distinctly familiar, something she had heard only once before – the clutter of horse hooves.

And then running was all that mattered.

This was not how she had imagined she would spend her birthday.

-

Bellamy had just finished talking for the second time with Monty when Octavia entered his tent and went to hug him.

He clasped his hands behind her back and embraced her tighter.

“Lincoln?”

Octavia bit her tongue. She had found him alright; except not in his cave but her brother didn’t need to know that. All that mattered was that her boyfriend turned not-boyfriend turned tentative friend had still been lurking around and had agreed to help them. After he had berated Octavia for being so foolhardy and after, of course, he had kissed her silly.

“He’ll try to get them out but he didn’t promise anything.”

Bellamy pulled back and looked her over – she was whole and not a scratch marred her face.

“That was all I asked for.”

“I heard you found Myles.”

“Yeah, he took two arrows but I think he can make it. As long as we get Clarke back to patch him up.”

Her gaze roamed over his face and she noticed the bags under his eyes and the exhaustion, worry and fear etched in his features.

“How are you, Bell? Really?”

His shoulder sagged under the burden he was carrying and it pained Octavia to see him this way.

“I’ll be better when we find them.” _When we find_ her _._ He ruffled her hair for old times’ sake and tried to smile. “Go to sleep, O. the search party will leave early in the morning.”

She wanted to stay with him, she really did. But Octavia didn’t think that this was something she could help him with and Bellamy would just force himself to appear better just not to worry her. She was pretty sure that the reason this had affected him so bad was because of Clarke.

He was dead on his feet so Octavia decided that her interrogation could wait a bit.

“Okay.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Try to get some sleep.”

Bellamy watched her leave and then flopped on his bed, clothes, shoes, gun and all. He didn’t have the energy to undress and it didn’t really matter.

His bed smelled like Clarke and the scent opened another big hole in his heart.

This small reminder of her tortured him most of the night until he fell asleep with Clarke’s name on his lips.

-

Apparently, the Grounders had a thing for seeing her arms bound. And this time it wasn’t a rope but a bloody heavy chain that scratched the previously irritated skin of her wrists.

But nobody gave a fuck about that.

Not Anya, nor her friends.

Clarke glared at them from her spot far away from the merrily cracking fire.

It was either anger or fear and Clarke refused to beg for her life.

They were waiting for something.

When Anya had caught up with her, all glorious and leader-like on her big horse Clarke wanted to stab her, she imagined the way the scalpel would sink in her flesh and the pretty red would sully her dark clothes.

But that didn’t happen. Clarke had been alone against three riders and her small pathetic scalpel wouldn’t stand a chance.

And now they were sitting down and waiting.

The heat of the fire mocked her but Clarke preferred the cold to sitting next to Finn’s killer.

It was then when another rider approached their make-shift camp.

Clarke observed the newcomer closely and noticed the way Anya seemed to listen to him, the way he shot down her every word, the way she kept her mouth shut and didn’t refute him. It was as if he was higher up the food-chain than Anya.

Clarke narrowed her eyes as her mind once again kicked gear and started working. If Anya answered to the newly arrived Grounder then that meant that there were people with more power and sway than her. That made Clarke’s head ache; it was frustrating how little they knew about the Grounders and their leaders because apparently Anya wasn’t one of them.

“Tristan.” Anya called warningly at the newcomer’s back when he started making his way to Clarke.

The way he walked – like a predator closing in on his prey – brought new waves of fear in Clarke’s being. She had thought that Anya was dangerous but the female Grounder couldn’t hold a candle to the savage cruel aura that Tristan radiated.

He reached down and yanked at her chain and Clarke slid along the ground until he had pulled her almost to him.

Her arms ached from the strain and her knees were bruised but that pain faded when he lifted her by her hair and Clarke scrambled to her feet in a desperate attempt to stop the agony from having her hair hold all of her weight.

Tristan didn’t even bat an eye to her lack of comfort as he tiled her head right and left and made a small humming noise.

“So you’re the girl that has been giving Anya problems. I expected more.” He let go of her hair and pushed her back.

Clarke stumbled but managed to stay on her feet.

“Then again you did kill one of our own; I guess looks can be deceiving.”

Clarke just threw a poisonous glare his way. Everything hurt but she wasn’t about to give him the pleasure of seeing her spirit broken; she was stronger than that.

“Was he your first kill?” she didn’t answer.

And that was a mistake on her part because he pulled the chain and wrapped his big muscled arm around her throat.

“I said was he your first kill?”

Atom, Dax, Gard.

“Third.” She refused to speak more than what was required of her to answer his question and she had the sick pleasure of seeing his eyes widen with shock.

But then he got over his surprise and his mouth stretched in a chilling smile.

“You know, my people have a ritual of sorts, a rite of passage. When you kill for the first time in combat you get marked so that everybody else would know of your courage and strength. And considering the fact that you’ve been such a little annoying nuisance I think we ought to initiate you.”

She had seen the marks on Tris, the scars on Gard, and Clarke knew with certainty that it wasn’t something she ever wanted to mar her skin.

But she was a rag-doll for Tristan and he easily manoeuvred her closer to the fire where he pinned her body against the ground and nearly squished her with his weight.

Breathing was hard but it became even harder when she saw Tristan reach forward and heat the blade of his dagger. Clarke tried to struggle, to fight, she really did, but it was a useless waste of energy.

He pulled the collar of her shirt down and exposed her left collarbone. There was some sadistic pleasure in his eyes when he lowered the hot blade and touched her skin; that pleasure grew to ecstasy when he repeated the action two more times and Clarke screamed in pain.

Hot white needles raced up her neck, down her spine, they engulfed her left side and then her right. Everything was one big circle of agony and nothing made sense anymore.

She was distantly aware that Tristan had moved away from her and that Anya told somebody to kill her.

The buzzing in her ears overrode the rest.

She opened her eyes – and she wasn’t aware she had closed them – to see the mask of a Grounder and then everything went black.

-

Waking up from a hit to the head for the third time in so little time proved to be as irritating and painful as the previous times.

The added up and down motion only served to make her head spin.

Only after she was sure she wasn’t going to throw up her stomach contents, Clarke dared to open her eyes and look around.

A hand around her waist prevented her fall when she flinched from the realisation she was riding a horse. With another person behind her. A Grounder.

She turned around – the mask was gone – and Lincoln gave her a small nod in acknowledgement.

“What? How?” This was too confusing for Clarke’s overworked brain.

“Octavia found me and told me you’ve been taken. I was lucky and managed to act as one of Anya’s guards.”

Clarke blinked. Octavia.

Fuck, Bellamy was probably going nuts over their kidnapping.

She didn’t have time to dwell on that because Lincoln pulled to a stop next to a big fire and helped her get down from the horse.

She was just about to ask him ‘what now’ when Finn arose from nowhere.

And then she was hugging him and he was hugging her and nothing else mattered.

Finn was alive and suddenly Clarke felt tiny bit better.

“I’m fine, Clarke, I’m fine.”

“We have to move.” Lincoln slapped the backside of the horse and the animal ran ahead.

The Grounder led them in the opposite direction.

Finn was clenching Clarke’s right arm and his warmth almost made her forget about the pain spiking along her left collarbone and the burning strain in her limbs.

“Where are we going?”

Lincoln stopped for a moment and looked around; Clarke did the same – the forest looked all the same to her. But apparently he found what he was looking for and pushed them into what Clarke suspected was an old mining tunnel.

“Move fast and try not to make too much noise.”

Finn hummed in agreement and Lincoln lit a torch.

The Grounder knew these tunnels but just to be on the safe side he pulled out his notebook that Octavia had given him back and traced his thumb along the drawn map.

They walked for more than an hour in complete silence when Lincoln came to an abrupt stop and halted their walk. The next few minutes were tense as Clarke and Finn waited for Lincoln to decide if what he was listening to was dangerous or not.

“What lives in here?” It was an appropriate question but judging by the look Lincoln gave her she didn’t really want to know.

“Pray you never find out.”

Finn shrugged.

Famous last words if you ask Clarke because not even half an hour later Lincoln shushed them and put out their torch.

He motioned for them to follow him and they did, as quietly as they could. Few feet after that the tunnel curved and the noise of people suddenly became all that more noticeable.

At first Clarke didn’t pay them attention because she was too busy staring at the old mining carts from which naked human limbs hanged limply. Finn tugged at her arm and she turned around to be faced with an even crueller view – seemingly human beings covered in tattered clothes, with tattoos and metal piercings all over their deformed faces were tossing a rock around and periodically hitting another dead person in the middle of their semi-circle.

If Clarke whimpered nobody said anything.

“What are those?”

“Reapers.” Lincoln’s voice was grave and extremely displeased.

That didn’t bode well for them.

“Is there another way?”

“No, this is the fastest route. If we go back we’ll lose too much time.”

He looked conflicted for a moment and then took off his sword from his back and gave it to Clarke.

“Give it to Octavia.”

Clarke pushed the sword back. “Are you insane? Octavia will skin me alive if something happens to you. For fuck’s sake you saved our lives, you’re not allowed to be a martyr.”

Lincoln frowned and motioned to the Reapers. “Do you have a better idea? Because we need to get pass them and we can’t kill them all. I know these tunnels, I’ll be fine.”

Clarke was indecisive for a moment but that was enough for Lincoln who took out his dagger.

“Wait. They haven’t noticed us yet.” And Finn was right. The Reapers were still busy with their sickening… game.

Lincoln observed them for a while and nodded in agreement. He passed his notebook to Clarke and gave her a signal when the coast was clear and she got safely to the other side of the tunnel, across the rail-road tracks and hid in the shadows of the branch tunnel that was supposed to help them get around the Reapers, at least according to Lincoln’s map.

Her heart was in her throat and her good hand clenched reflexively around Lincoln’s sword every time one of the Reapers let out a cackle.

Those people, _things_ , were insane.

And Clarke really didn’t want to meet them face-to-face.

Everything seemed fine until Finn tried to cross the tracks and kicked a bone.

The silence that followed was deafening and all the blood drained from Clarke’s face.

She had just enough time to see Lincoln mouth ‘go’ at her and then he was dragging Finn after him and back in the tunnel from which they got here. Not a moment later seven-eight Reapers followed them and Clarke pushed closer to the cold stone behind her, making sure that the shadows covered every inch of her.

And then… then she was running.

-

Bellamy sleep that night was very troubled, often interrupted by nightmares of Clarke screaming for help.

In the end he just laid in his bed and let his body rest because apparently his mind wasn’t able to.

When his internal clock clicked seven he got up, fixed his askew clothes, checked his gun and went to find food and water.

He wasn’t surprised to see that Raven was up as well; hell, most of the camp was busy with something.

“Have you seen Jasper?” Bellamy shook his head.

“No, but if you find him tell him that the search party will leave soon.”

“How soon?”

“An hour at most.”

She went to sidestep him when he caught her arm.

“Hey, Raven,” she looked at him, “we’ll find them.”

She smiled in gratitude and was about to add something when the sound of a gun going off had them running towards the shuttle.

And just in time to see the hatch closing.

“What the fuck is going on?” Bellamy’s roar was met with silence until Harper braved her way to meet his gaze.

“Jasper went to check the gunpowder. And um, I think I saw another person entering after him.”

“Who?” Raven looked as murderous as he felt.

“Murphy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep... don't kill me, please? Otherwise I won't be able to post the next chapter! (I have no idea when will that happen tbh)  
> Love you all.  
> \- M.


	11. Bloody Negotiations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK BITC- *cough* I mean, hi all ♥ I'm sorry for my long absence, especially after I promised I won't be gone for long, lol, but my life decided to throw some problems my way and I had to doge them and make the best of the rest. Thankfully, for now things are calm and I'm slowly trying to get back to writing.  
> Thank you for the kudos and the comments~

Today was not his day, Jasper thought with a shake of his head.

He was on watch all night because he couldn’t sleep, and as great as Harper was at keeping up a meaningless talk, he missed Monty and his ability to make him relax.

Somehow, Jasper had managed to keep himself busy even throughout the darkest hours of the night, often checking up on Myles.

The kid was holding up so far but they needed to get Clarke back as soon as possible. None of the other delinquents had any idea of medicine and truth was that without Clarke they were lost. The void left behind by her presence felt like missing an arm or a leg; they could still function, but they were crippled, dragged down by their own incompetence and lack of knowledge. And against the Grounders the ability to get back up and fight again and again was the deciding factor.

Bellamy was their raw power, always there to propel them forward with encouraging words and the will to lead but Clarke, _Clarke_ was their silent warm unwavering strength, she was the reason, she was the final call.

With a sigh, Jasper put down the water canteen and checked one last time the amount of gunpowder they had left. It wasn’t much – and Jasper felt like it was never going to be enough – but if used wisely it would do just fine until he could make another batch.

He rubbed his eyes and grimaced at the prickling feeling he got. Not sleeping maybe wasn’t his brightest idea as of late. He cast a glance around and spotted a forgotten sleeping bag in one of the corners of the second level of the shuttle.

Maybe a quick nap would solve his problems.

He took off his jacket and dropped it next to the make-shift bed; Raven’s walkie-talkie fell from one of his pockets. Jasper blinked owlishly at it. Huh. Raven had been looking for it. Whatever. Jasper set it aside and got ready for few hopefully undisturbed minutes of sleep.

But first, he was going to check on Myles one more time – the kid had no friends and having two arrows in your body was far from pleasant.

Jasper didn’t really pay attention to his surroundings when he made his way down the ladder but maybe he should have, because seeing Murphy backing away from Myles’ unnaturally still body, plastic wrapping falling to the ground, and Murphy’s savage grin being replaced by a busted expression was not his idea for a wake-up call.

They both froze looking at each other.

“It’s not what you think.” Murphy’s innocent act was perfect and if Jasper was more sleep deprived and hadn’t just witnessed his gleeful face maybe he would have given it a second thought.

As it was, Jasper had no doubts about what had just transpired.

Jasper clutched the ladder tighter and the metal warmed under his fingers. He still had few steps down to the ground and the exit hatch was too far for him to make it without Murphy tackling him down at some point along the way. His rifle was resting against one of the walls, right in the middle between the two of them and John was eyeing it as well.

Jasper didn’t have much of a choice. He took a deep breath to try and calm his pulse.

He faked going for the gun and when Murphy dived for it, Jasper climbed the ladder back to the second level.

A shot echoed in the metal construction and Jasper felt searing hot pain piercing his upper right leg. Yet, he still managed to drag all of his body up and close the hatch.

The last thing he saw was Murphy’s furious face as he had given up on reloading the rifle and was now pulling down the lever for the main door.

Jasper wedged a bar over the hatch and applied pressure on his wound. Fuck, but that hurt.

He bit his lip.

He was stuck in an empty shuttle with one crazy son of a bitch.

He should have gone to bed.

 

-

Finn was struggling to breathe.

He had lost track of time; there was only running and more running, a nearly futile battle to stay few feet ahead of the Reapers. The tunnels had no end, they were just a twisted maze of dead ends and never-ending paths, leading nowhere, leading _somewhere_ , but not where they wanted them to. 

Lincoln’s hand was gripping his jacket’s sleeve, his fist bound so tight that his knuckles had lost all colour and were now just a mess of white thin skin, corded shaking muscles and the sickly blue of his veins. If it wasn’t for the Grounder by his side, Finn would have gotten lost long ago, hopelessly roaming in the dark, waiting unwillingly for the Reapers to find him.

The Reapers.

They were _everywhere_.

Every nook and cranny, every jagged corner, every false curve just brought more and more of them; they were the swarm and these dusty, black and dangerous tunnels were their hive.

Finn and Lincoln were the trapped prey.

The shaking barely there light of their hastily made torch – courtesy of having a few moments to themselves without the Reapers breathing down their necks –  illuminated enough of their way so that they could avoid the natural cave-ins and holes of the old mine.

But with no signs of an exit even that wasn’t enough.

At this point Finn just desperately hoped that at least Clarke had made it out of here.

“Lincoln.” Finn’s voice was raspy, his throat aching for water, but it was still enough to convey all the unsaid words they both heard in his shaking words – despair and pleading, lost hope and a last push for something, _anything_.

The Reapers had grown up in these tunnels, they had lived every single moment of their lives in here; the fact that they still hadn’t caught them was thanks to the unbelievable dumb luck Finn and Lincoln had so far. But even that was running short – Finn could hear over his very own thundering heart the heavy steps behind his back and the excited cries of their chasers. Every second _they_ were getting closer and Finn and Lincoln were running further from their goal.

Lincoln spared him a glance, in his eyes Finn saw the same exhaustion, but also his resolve to survive this.

The hand on his jacket tugged him closer and faster.

“Keep going. I think I found it.”

 _Found what_ , Finn wanted to ask but he saved his breath, it could be his last one for all he knew.

The sound of metal hitting metal made him look back and Finn saw the first wave of their pursuers – three males, two of them holding a curved rusty knife and an old tomahawk respectively, while the third had just opted to go for a really well sharpened long bone.

Finn felt bile rise in his chest and had to push his already tired legs to run faster, do better, be quicker.

Ending up as a snack to a bunch of lunatic cannibals was not how he envisioned the end of his life.

Gravel and stones crunched under their feet as they took yet another turn and ended up in front of another forked part of the tunnels. Lincoln stopped and looked from one tunnel to the next and back again. The little orangey flame of their pathetic torch swayed uncertainly in Lincoln’s steady grip.  

“Lincoln!” Finn’s shout was desperate but Lincoln paid it no mind, he had eyes only for the small flicker of yellow dancing next to him.

Finn tried to drag him to the left – the Reapers were gaining on them, fast – but Lincoln threw the torch in their direction and pulled Finn with him to the right tunnel.

They barely heard the commotion caused by their discarded light source, the ground under their steps vibrated. The tunnel, surprisingly, wasn’t as dark as the other parts of the mine and it seemed like with every step they took it appeared brighter and brighter, and something rumbled _louder_.

Hope bubbled in Finn’s heart and he pushed his body beyond its limit for one last final sprint.

He saw the light at the end of the tunnel, _literally_ , and a hysterical laugh left his lips; had they actually made it out?

Finn barely had time to adjust to the sudden light when Lincoln stopped him just in time – the end of the tunnel was on top of a high cliff. A spacious, seemingly endless clear blue and green lake was spread bellow them with most of it obscured by the water mist coming from the waterfall on their left; suddenly the noise he had heard made sense. Up close it was even louder and Finn barely made out Lincoln’s words.

“We need to jump.”

Finn stared in disbelief but the Grounder was far from moved by his expression.

After that it was more like Lincoln pushing him off the cliff than Finn actually jumping, but either way he cut into the freezing water.

His lungs were burning with the need for oxygen and his body was heavy and drained, the cold was seeping into his bones, and the strong current of the lake was making things even more difficult for him. He couldn’t swim for fuck’s sake, it’s not like on the Ark they offered exclusive classes with all the excess water they had, _not_. And this lake was _much_ bigger than the one where he splashed around with Clarke, that one at least had an end, this one – didn’t seem like it.

He tried to look around for Lincoln but everything was painted in foam of air bubbles, the same air bubbles that left his mouth as he tried to reach the surface. The water only dragged him below, deeper and deeper in the bottomless lake, his pitiful attempts to get his arms and legs to _move_ and _do_ _something_ _useful_ only seemed to make things worse. His vision darkened as his mind was screaming for oxygen.

Something, some _one_ his mind sluggishly supplied, jerked him upwards and bodily carried him to something than no longer felt like water. A sting across his face, then another and suddenly Finn was bending in two, throwing up most of the water he had the pleasure of swallowing and then some more.

Sweet, sweet air filled his hurting lungs and he tried to open his listless eyes; an endeavour that was done with great effort.

Lincoln’s drenched, heavily breathing form was the first thing he saw and something in Finn’s chest relaxed at seeing his somewhat friend alive.

“We need to get moving.”

“Really?” Finn’s sarcasm was met with an unimpressed look.

Lincoln looked towards waterfall and Finn copied him – where they were standing minutes ago now was a whole group of obviously displeased Reapers.

Finn frowned. “Are they afraid of the water?” The lake was deep, Finn would give them that.

“No, this is enemy’s territory. They wouldn’t dare venture in it.”

“This is good, right?” Finn pushed back his wet hair. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that shit, _right_?”

Lincoln got up and squeezed some of the water out of his clothes; Finn was suddenly all too aware of his own dripping freezing water clothes hanging off his back.

“Not exactly.”

“Care to elaborate?” But Lincoln only stared at the Reapers.

Finn waved his hand in front of the Grounder’s face until he had his attention.

“Stop that.” The grip he got on Finn’s hand was as strong as ever and somewhere deep down Finn was both immensely impressed and extremely annoyed by Lincoln’s unceasing supply of energy. “They won’t give chase because this side of the forest belongs to the Mountain Men.”

The way Lincoln said that didn’t bode well for them, not at all.

“We shouldn’t be here, either.”

Yeah, not at all.

“Come on, we have to make a detour.” Lincoln shook the water out of his boots and disappeared in the woods.

“Aren’t the Mountain Men like you?” Finn shouted after him but he got no answer.

Guess not.

He looked around – Mount Weather appeared so much closer than usual and Finn couldn’t help but wonder if that meant that they somehow had bypassed the acid cloud that separated their camp from the mountain.

Then again, their supposed save haven seemed to be inhabited by _Mountain Men_ , whatever those were.

Life up on the Ark was so much easier.

Finn broke in a jog despite his protesting muscles to catch up to his guide.

-

The clock was ticking.

Bellamy had no time for this bullshit.

Fucking Murphy. He should have killed him the moment the bastard had stumbled back into their camp. John was nothing but trouble, unwanted malicious petty trouble.

And now he had Jasper and Myles in that shuttle with him.

“Fuck.” Bellamy swore loudly and got few concerned looks in return. “Miller!”

“I’m here.”

Bellamy ruffled his already messy hair. “Go find Octavia and start assembling the search team.”

“What about this?” Miller lifted his chin towards the shuttle.

“Raven and I will try to handle it. She said she had a plan. If we’re not done by the time you have the group gathered, you’ll leave without us. Harper here,” he turned to look at her, “will keep you updated on our progress.” _Or lack of_.

The girl nodded in agreement.

Miller didn’t bother him with any more questions, turned around and left just like that, something that Bellamy was extremely grateful for because he wasn’t in the mood for talking. The gathered group around Bellamy slowly started to scatter around under Miller’s orders as Bellamy paced in front of the closed shut door.

He knew he shouldn’t lose his composure but fuck, this was hard; Harper’s nervous presence close by only proved that he wasn’t doing all that great job at mastering his emotions.

Clarke and Finn were still unaccounted for and instead of looking for them, Bellamy was stuck trying to get Jasper and Myles away from Murphy. And he had no doubt that Murphy was behind this fiasco.

So much for second chances.

God damn it, did nothing ever go according to plan in here?

It was on his sixth walk around the shuttle when his walkie-talkie emitted a cracking sound and Bellamy felt a pang of guilt for forgetting about Monty’s call. Apparently time flied faster when he was at his wits end.

Except it wasn’t Monty.

“Bellamy?” Jasper’s weakened voice sounded from the small speaker attached to the walkie-talkie.

Bellamy nearly dropped it in his haste to reach the send button.

“Jasper?!” Oh god, he was alive! “What happened? Myles? Murphy? Are you ok?”

There was a moment of static when Bellamy feared the worse, but Jasper began talking again.

“Myles is…he’s dead, Bellamy.”

Bellamy swing around and his fist hit the outer wall of the shuttle, the sound and the vibrations of the impact resonated in his head.

“Can you open the door?”

A twig snapping to his left had him turning and Bellamy made a shushing motion to Raven.

“No, I’m trapped on the second level. The bastard shot me in the leg.”

It kept getting better.  

Raven yanked the walkie-talkie from Bellamy’s iron hold.

“How much are you bleeding?”

“Dunno; a lot I guess. I only see an entry wound but I can’t be really sure. There’s just blood all over the place.”

Bellamy and Raven shared a concerned look. 

“Tie something around it and keep applying pressure.” Raven’s voice was steady; unlike her trembling hands. “Do you have a weapon with you?”

“Just a jar with gunpowder and the bar I used to jam the hatch.”

Bellamy’s hand rested on top of Raven’s and together they pushed the send button. “Hang in there; we’re coming to get you.” Bellamy wished he felt as confident and assured in his words as he sounded. 

He moved their fingers off the button.

“That plan of yours-“

“I can do it. I just need time.”

Time was something they didn’t have. But Bellamy was excelling at the impossible stuff lately.

“Get Harper to help you.” He slipped the walkie-talkie from her grasp. “Jasper? Listen, there is something I need you to do for me…”

-

That damn map.

Lincoln was lucky that she knew how to read maps; otherwise Clarke had no chance of making it back to the camp.

Getting out of the mine had been the easy part. The tunnel where she got separated from Finn and Lincoln was dark and damp, but relatively short. At first she had been running but when the light from the Reapers’ fires got lost behind a corner, Clarke brushed her fingers along the uneven stone walls to get a grasp of her surroundings in the darkness that swallowed her, and kept her steps soft and short. It wasn’t all that long after when she made it out to some part of the forest.

From then, the real challenge began.

Clarke didn’t know these woods. A month spend down here on Earth had barely prepared her for anything. In reality, everything was so different and too diverse from the little information the Ark had supplied them with about Earth’s wonders and dangers. But that information was from before the Cataclysm and even if Clarke had _years_ to study the old, falling-apart and heavily guarded books about what to expect, she still wouldn’t have found anything useful.

The radiation had changed the laws of nature.

A shiver ran through her body when a flashback from the Reapers passed behind her eyes.

And apparently that had effected the humankind most of all.

Lincoln’s leather book fortunately had directions back to their camp. Vague directions, mostly consisting of drawings of landmarks, but directions nonetheless. It was more than Clarke had hoped for, really.

But navigating around the closely-grown trees and the high greenery with cold sweat dried under her clothes was demanding more of Clarke than she could give right now. And the sun, despite the fact that it was tenaciously trying to break through the tree crowns, and more often than not succeeding, did next to nothing about the chilling temperature.

Clarke’s clothes were not suited for Earth’s climate. Hell, _she_ wasn’t suited for Earth’s climate.

The Ark had one set temperature than never changed unless there was an emergency or you were in the Greenhouse. As such, her body wasn’t accustomed to the ever changing atmosphere the Earth possessed.

Her boots splashed water to the sides as Clarke crossed a small stream. She frowned in thought – according to her guide book if she was to follow the stream it would eventually lead her to the lake where she got her seaweeds; from there she knew in which direction to walk.

So far she hadn’t met any problems and while Lincoln’s sword hanging from her hip gave her some sense of comfort and safety, Clarke couldn’t help but think that everything was going good, almost _too_ good to be true .

She closed the notebook and tucked it safely in the band of her trousers. A spike of pain started from her collarbone where the three brands that Tristan left her with sat, but Clarke ignored it the same way she tried to not pay attention to the healing wound on her left shoulder.

She trekked slowly down the stream and her boots were wet in minutes, her legs freezing, but Clarke was adamant to not leave more tracks than she already had. The harder she could make it for her pursuers – be it Grounders or Reapers – the better in her opinion.

Clarke tried to listen for unusual sounds but the water was murmuring beneath her feet, and the occasional puff of the wind and the birds’ tweeting overshadowed the other noises. At least the water was shallow enough that Clarke didn’t have to worry for something snatching her leg and taking her underwater; she wasn’t burning with desire to repeat Octavia’s unpleasant experience any time soon.

She grumbled unhappily as the sword smacked her leg again. Her cold fingers went to fiddle with the strap she had tied it on with, but instead of making the knot tighter, she accidentally untied the whole thing and the sword plopped in the water.

“Of course, Clarke, why not.” She rolled her eyes at her own clumsiness and bent down to fish the blade out of the stream.

Sudden dizziness overwhelmed her and Clarke was harshly reminded of the fact that she hadn’t consumed any kind of food for a while. Her stomach chose that exact same moment to complain loudly.

It was only after she rubbed her hand over her tummy to try and chase away the sensation of emptiness that she noticed something was off.

Clarke did a full circle, eyes scanning her surroundings and fingers gripping tightly the hilt of the sword. She didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary – as ordinary as Earth could be – but the birds had gone quiet and that made Clarke feel uneasy.

She was starting to relax her tense muscles when she heard it. A sound that made her skin rise in goose bumps  –  the clatter of hoofs.

She didn’t have time to prepare and think of something, she didn’t have time to look for a hiding place. The most she could do was run for one of the denser parts of the bushes surrounding the stream and hope for the best.

And that’s what she did.

But just as she was reaching her destination, her feet slipped on some of the mud made by the running water and she slid down a slope that was previously hidden by the bushes. Rolling down wasn’t Clarke’s idea for fun; twigs and branches pulled at her already ripped clothes, fallen brown and yellow leafs got stuck in her hair and when she finally reached the end, her back hit the bark of a tree.

Clarke whimpered from the sudden onslaught of pain and curled into a ball. The dirt, the leafs and whatever else got disturbed thanks to her tumble shortly followed and Clarke found herself covered in more flora than she ever wanted to.

But maybe it was for the best, because over the sound of her heartbeat stuck in her ears, she could hear the horses slowing down to a stop.

“Are you sure about this?”

The voice sounded far away but it was familiar and Clarke had to concentrate really hard to try and place it.

Somebody made splashes in the water and one of the horses gave a neigh.

“How many times are you going to ask me that?”

The following silence was oppressing and Clarke could taste the fear her body was locked down with in her mouth.

“As many as it will take, Tristan.” _Anya_ , Clarke thought. “Going at war with them is not something we need right now. The winter is approaching fast and we have bigger problems than-“

“They’re _outlanders_ and trespassers. They started this and I’m going to finish it. You’ve grown soft, Anya, your attempt for a peace talk failed and you lost countless men on that bridge. The Commander left _me_ with the task to see them bleeding and that’s _exactly_ what I’m going to do.”

“Yes, I failed. But it was as much our fault as it was theirs. We still have a chance. The Mountain Men are getting restless and our scouts have been spotting them more and more these days.”

“All the more reasons to kill the trespassers.”

“We can be stronger with them by our side. Lincoln said that their goal was the mountain and the bunker where the Mountain Men live. If they want it that badly we can help them. _They_ can help _us_.”

“Enough!” Tristan’s voice was sharp and left no room for objections. “They don’t belong here, they started as our enemies and they’ll die as our enemies.”

More splashing was heard and Clarke curled in even more to herself in a desperate attempt to make her body appear smaller and insignificant.

“Trist-“

“We’ll attack after dawn. Get your people ready.”

The horses shuffled nervously.

“And Anya? Keep your thoughts to yourself. I’d hate to have to keep your mouth _shut_.”

Clarke shivered under improvised leafs blanket. The way Tristan had delivered his words left no doubt in Clarke’s mind how exactly he was going to make sure that Anya was keeping quiet. Her revulsion for that man only grew stronger.

The sound of the flowing water was the only thing Clarke’s ears heard for a while. Then, the horse moved around, wading in the small stream for few seconds before taking off, urged by its rider.

Ten minutes later Clarke finally let herself relax for real.

She needed to make her way back to Bellamy and the camp as soon as possible.

The attack was tonight and they weren’t ready.

Clarke rolled on her back and winced when the muscles on her right side protested the movement. That was going to be one big fucking bruise later.

She brushed the dirt away.

Maybe Finn and Lincoln were having a less eventful day.

-

Jasper mulled it over.

It was a stupid plan no matter how he looked at it.

But it was also the only plan they had.

He dragged his body closer to the hatch – his leg had gone numb under the piece of cloth he had tied it with and the small puddle of blood was making him feel sick.

“Ready?” he whispered in his walkie-talkie.

“Yeah, we’re going in. Five minutes, Jasper.” Bellamy’s voice answered back.

Right, five minutes. It shouldn’t be that hard to hold a conversation with a recently discovered psychopath who shot him in the leg half an hour ago. 

 _What inspiring words, Jasper_ , Monty’s voice laughed in his head.

 _Shut up_ , he whined back.

Jasper took a deep breath and removed the bar stopping the hatch from opening.

“Murphy?” He slowly set ajar the hatch. “Don’t shoot me, please.” Jasper looked through the small opening but he could barely see anything. “Murphy? I have an offer for you.”

He heard moving from bellow and the sound of his rifle being loaded.

“What?” was John’s angry shout back.

Jasper propped himself on his elbow and leaned closer to the hatch, opening it a little more until he had a clear view of Murphy aiming the rifle at him.

“You’re doing this for revenge, right?” Murphy’s expression didn’t change. Right. “I don’t really fancy dying up here and well, we both know who you really want.”

The name _Bellamy_ was left unsaid but it was like it rang in the mostly empty room.

“I have a walkie-talkie here.” Jasper waved it around so that Murphy could catch a glimpse of it. “And I tried calling Bellamy and asking for a rescue and all that and do you know what he told me? No?” John came closer. “He said that finding Clarke and Finn was more important than trying to break in this fucking shuttle.” Jasper put into his words all the hate and disgust he felt for the person standing few feet from him and prayed that Murphy will think it was aimed towards Bellamy.

“I can’t believe that he would do that to me after everything I’ve done for him. He’s a dick.”

Murphy’s lips split in a smirk. “Yeah, he is. And so what?”

Jasper licked his lips. “I was thinking…” he had to be careful not to overdo it, “Bellamy is not the person he says he is, not the person he makes us believe he is. I wouldn’t be too..judging if something were to happen to him, accidentally of course.”

He waited and finally Murphy lowered his weapon a little bit and gave him all of his attention.

“You want me to believe that you suddenly want Bellamy dead?”

“He left me for the dead for some girl.” Jasper showed him his blood covered hand. “I’m not feeling particularly happy about that.”

John let the gun point at the ground.

“And your plan?”

Jasper noticed one of the floor panels moving but stubbornly held Murphy’s gaze.

“The search party is still here, meaning Bellamy is still here. You fire a shot with that rifle and I call him over the walkie-talkie to tell him that we got into a fight and I managed to take you out. We open the door, he comes in – he would like to make sure you’re dead for real, no offence – and you pull the trigger. Simple, yet effective.”

The panel disappeared silently and a dark mop of hair showed.

_Please believe my bullshit._

“And what next? How are we going to explain that I shot you and killed him.” Murphy waved his hand over to Myles and the dark head disappeared from the floor.

“With Bellamy dead and Clarke and Finn missing,” The head was back up, “we’ll need somebody to unite us against the Grounders. I’m sure you’d love to have another go at them.”

Rage and hatred filled Murphy’s eyes; Jasper could almost see his sick excited aura, he had the suspicion that John was getting off on thinking about other people suffering under his hands.

“It almost sounds too good to be true.”

Bellamy was half-way out of the shaft he was coming through when a gun was slowly pushed upwards as well, thanks to Raven probably.

“You know, Jasper, I don’t like you.” Murphy lifted the rifle. “I don’t like your face, really.”

Bellamy aimed his.

“You won’t get away with this.” Jasper’s voice was quiet but at least it wasn’t shaking.

“We’ll see.” Murphy smiled at him.

And then the walkie-talkie in Jasper’s hand cracked and Monty’s voice came through.

The same voice was heard from Bellamy’s walkie-talkie.

“Hey, Bellamy, this is the morning rep-“

Murphy turned around and saw Bellamy looking down at his walkie-talkie.

“You!”

And then everything descended into chaos.

-

Two shots.

That was all it took to put an end to this madness.

Bellamy brushed away the splatters of blood – _Murphy’s_ blood – off his face.

John had been faster in pulling the trigger but the bulled had jammed and Bellamy had hit him first. Two bullets – one in the stomach and one in the chest close to the heart.

The light had disappeared from Murphy’s eyes and Bellamy knew that he was dead without having to check for a pulse.

“Doing alright?” he looked at Jasper.

Jasper grimaced at the question and shook his head. “Not really. I’ll need help getting down.”

Bellamy helped Raven get out of the shaft and she went to lift the lever up and open the door.

“I’ll be right ther-”

“Bellamy!” Octavia’s voice cut off his words.

He sidestepped Murphy’s body and blood and turned around to look at his winded sister.

“One of Miller’s teams found Clarke.” She was clutching yet another walkie-talkie in her hand.

Bellamy had to lean on one of the walls because the sense of relief he felt was more than enough to bring him to his knees.

“They’re coming back.”

He nodded but he didn’t care to hear the rest. She was back and she was alive. That was all that mattered, nothing else.

Raven’s sharp words cut right into his happy bubble. “What about Finn?”

Octavia bit her lower lip and shook her head.

“Clarke is alone.”

It got so quiet you could hear a pin dropping.

Bellamy’s radio crackled.

“Bellamy?” Monty sounded lost.

Like all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monty, Monty, Monty, where the heck is Monty?  
> Feedback is greatly appreciated.  
> love,  
> \- M.


	12. War Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so incredibly sorry that this hasn't been updated in so long. I can give you a whole essay about the reasons why despite my promises that I would update it soon, it never happened until now but I'm pretty sure you're not really interested in that. So instead, I want to say thank you for your unwavering support, it really kept making me want to continue writing in this universe. You're all incredible and I cherish every single one of you <3

Seeing a familiar face was like a punch in the gut, the relief was just _that_ strong.

Hours of running and hiding and looking behind her back in fear had squeezed every ounce of energy Clarke had and stumbling upon Denise and her team felt like a miracle.

“What the hell happened to you?” Clarke looked at her clothes – she was a right mess. “Never mind that, you’re _alive_.” Denise’s small body barrelled into hers and Clarke stumbled back but Kal was there to hold them standing.

Clarke found the strength to smile at the silent boy and hugged Denise back. They had been passing acquaintances up on the Ark but when Denise had gotten thrown in jail for pilfering food rations, they had lost contact. Clarke hadn’t really talked to her all that much here down on Earth either – everything was just so hectic – but a nod here and a hello there was all they needed.

Until now.

Kal and the two other guys – whose names eluded Clarke in her tired state – looked around, guns ready to fire. He gently pried Denise from her body and gave her a thorough examination.

“You hurt?”

Clarke shrugged, inwardly wincing at the dull burning sensation from Tristan’s marks and the pull of the numerous scratches and bruises she had acquired while on the run.

“I’ll live.”

Denise dabbed her tears away. “And Finn? Where’s Finn?”

Clarke faltered for a moment but then put up a reassuring facade. “We got split up but he’s safe with Lincoln.” How safe was the question.

Kal took out his walkie-talkie and let the camp know they found her. Clarke let Denise hold her hand as they walked back to camp. She was still a kid needing reassurance and warmth.

They were all kids.

But it was hard to remember that when they had to do whatever it took to survive.

Comfort was a luxury they couldn’t always afford.

-

“Do you at least know where we are?” The lack of sleep and Lincoln’s edginess was getting to Finn.

The Grounder didn’t even look at him.

“I know where we have to go.” _Or not go_ Finn added in his head.

Ever since they got out of the lake Lincoln had become more and more agitated, silent in his anger though it was pretty obvious in the way he carried himself – shoulders tense, one arm on his dagger, eyes darting around and flinching at every sound. He was poised for battle but refused to say why and it was driving Finn mad.

“That’s it.” Finn stopped next to a fallen log and sat down. “I’m not moving until you tell me what’s going on.”

Lincoln huffed and bared his teeth in response. “Suit yourself.” And kept walking.

Finn gawked at his back and after Lincoln made it clear that he had no plans of turning back, Finn got up and followed him. Seriously, would it hurt the guy to tell him at least _one_ thing?

“Can we take a break? I can barely walk.” His legs felt like jelly – like the one they mass produced up on the Ark; it tasted horrible – and he had the feeling that he could fall asleep every moment now.

“Are all Sky people so infuriating?”

Finn lost a step and Lincoln caught him before he could meet the bark of the tree in front of him.

“You call us Sky people?”

“You came from the sky did you not? Plus, you call us Grounders.”

Finn opened his mouth to object but then realised it was futile. Then frowned.

“So you call the people up there,” he pointed in the general direction of Mount Weather. “Mountain Men because they live in the mountain? Are they like you?” Another tribe maybe?

“No, they’re like you.” Lincoln slowed down and after a moment of pondering, he continued right.

“What do you mean?”

They neared something like a small enclosure, a half-ruined building of sorts, which the nature had swallowed whole and made a part of itself. After Lincoln deemed it safe, Finn laid on the ground, groaning at the throbbing sensation in his muscles.

“They have guns, they wear masks. They know things we don’t, much like you do.”

Finn turned the words around in his head combining it with all the information they had learned so far and the conclusion he came to – well, it wasn’t exactly heartening.

“They live in the bunker we wanted to reach, don’t they?”

Lincoln shrugged and leaned on the only still standing wall. “Most likely.”

Well fuck.

The Mountain Men were people who had survived the Cataclysm tucked safely in the protective bunker, thriving on the comforts it held and surrounded by technology and knowledge while the Grounders had to desperately grasp for ends in search for survival.

No wonder they appeared so heartless – the world after the Cataclysm must have been a very cruel place; every man for himself and all that shit.

But why were they at war with each other?

One look at Lincoln’s face told Finn that he won’t be getting any more answers from him for the time being.

Finn squirmed around until the stones digging in his back stopped bothering him. After that, sleep came easier than he thought.

-

Bellamy was vibrating with nervous energy, nearly out of his skin with the need to cross the camp’s walls and go meet Clarke and the rest. Yet, he stayed still – or tried to – and listened to Miller’s comforting lullaby of meaningless words over the walkie-talkie. Seriously, that guy deserved a gold medal or something.

Octavia was back at the shuttle keeping Jasper company but Raven had been insistent in her refusal to join them and paced next to him, anxious and withdrawn, stopping to look over the walls every other second.

They knew Finn wasn’t with Clarke but Bellamy had no doubt that the first thing Raven would like to know would be where the hell he was. Bellamy was just as equally worried for the guy but his feelings of comradeship didn’t hold a candle to Raven’s complicated tangle of feelings. That much at least he knew.

Miller’s familiar shout of “Open the gates!” brought him out of thoughts and between one moment and the next, Bellamy was at the gates helping the rest of the guards push them apart. Then, he only had eyes for Clarke’s dirt streaked hair and her haggard form.

He didn’t remember crossing the space separating them or reaching for her but he must have because he was holding her tight against his chest, his arms like iron bands around her, refusing to budge. She whimpered in what might have been pain but instead of drawing back, she burrowed further in his embrace, her hands locking around his neck and holding just as tight.

He didn’t know what to say, his throat was dry and somehow _“You’re alive”_ didn’t seem to be enough. Instead, he held her for a bit longer, ignoring the sly smirks from the people around him (that didn’t look all that surprised to see them hugging), and reluctantly released her to mock-scowl at her crooked grin.

“Took you long enough.”

Her laugh was light and eased some of his tension.

“Escaping is hard work, you know?” She was teasing him but there was something dark in her gaze as she self-consciously brushed her fingers over her neck and collarbone.

Bellamy took note of that but before he could ask, Raven was pushing him aside and giving Clarke her own version of a welcome back hug.

“Where’s Finn?”

Clarke pulled back and flicked a leaf out of Raven’s hair. “He’s fine. He’s with Lincoln – we got separated and they had to take a detour.”

Raven didn’t look happy with that. “Why? What happened?”

Clarke was about to answer when Bellamy decided to interfere. “Leave the story for later, we have a bigger emergency. Jasper got shot.”

“What?” Clarke sidestepped Raven and made her way inside the camp, the rest following.

“There was a...situation with Murphy.” Her blue eyes narrowed and pinned him under her sharp gaze.

“And Murphy?”

Bellamy squeezed the strap of his gun. “Dead.”

Clarke licked her lips then gave a slight nod. The brush of her fingers against the back of his hand told him everything he needed to know – he did the right thing.

-

“Why do you have Lincoln’s sword?”

Clarke lowered the wet rag she was using to wipe the worst of the grime off her face and looked at Octavia’s worried face. The sword dangling from her hip hit her leg when she moved forward and Clarke gave it a curious look – she had gotten so used to the weight and the movement that she had totally forgotten she had been carrying it in the first place.

“He gave it to me before we got separated.” Clarke finished cleaning her neck and hung the rag on the ladder.

Octavia didn’t seem convinced by her explanation but Clarke handed her the sword and the Blake girl clutched it tightly to her chest. Clarke tried to give her a comforting smile but she couldn’t bring herself to lie anymore. She didn’t know Finn and Lincoln’s fates any more than they did; it was all hopes and speculations.

There was blood dripping from the open hatch to the second level and on the floor and one of the panels was missing; Murphy’s body was thankfully gone – Clarke had seen enough dead people for a while.

Jasper was there though, pale and shivering, laying on the table Finn used to lay when he had Lincoln’s dagger stuck in his body.

Clarke chased the memory away and gave a smile nod of appreciation when Bellamy and Miller came in carrying a big bucket, filled to the brim with seaweed water and Raven followed them with the rest of Clarke’s medical supplies.

“Hey, Jasper. How are you doing?”

His bloodless lips split in something resembling a grin and he gave her a small wave.

“Clarke, good to see you. Wish it was under different circumstances though.”

Clarke washed her hands as thoroughly as she could and then scrubbed them clean with the moss they used two days ago as an improvised bath; Bellamy must have sent a team to get some. She took off her jacket and put her hair in something resembling a braid – her hair was so dirty that it stayed in place even without an elastic.

Clarke hummed in agreement and approached the table. Jasper’s pants were red with blood, a _lot_ of blood, especially the right leg where the wound was. She unwrapped part of the bandages and put them away. Miller helped her turn Jasper on his left side for her to get a closer look at the puncture wound. She used a small knife to rip the ruined fabric apart and was greeted by a mess of colours. The bullet had hit him in his upper thigh from the side, probably rupturing muscle fibbers along the way if the blooming purple bruise was anything to go by. There was no exit wound and the bleeding was sluggish but Clarke was hesitant when it came to pulling the bullet out – this much blood could mean that there was a broken blood vessel, if not more. But leaving it inside his leg wasn’t much of an option either.

“What’s the verdict, Doc?” Jasper’s attempt for a joke felt flat and it reminded Clarke too much of when she was treating his chest wound. For fuck’s sake, he still hadn’t healed from that one, and now he had another.

This world had it out for Jasper.

“I’ll have to amputate your leg.”

“What?” His horrified squeak eased the tension in the shuttle.

She patted his shoulder and ruffled his hair.

“Easy there. I only have to take out the bullet.”

He must have sensed something because he lifted his head to get a proper look of her face.

“What’s the problem?”

She spared the tools Raven was holding a glance and then stood straighter.

“I don’t have the exact sized pincers to take it out. We’ll have to do with what we have at hand.”

Jasper groaned, head hitting the metal table.

Bellamy frowned and exited the shuttle, making sure that the tent flaps were up and allowed the sunlight to enter.

“It’s going to hurt, isn’t it?”

Clarke didn’t even deign to answer him, the question had been rhetorical.

“How do we do this?” That was Octavia; she had finally put Lincoln’s sword away and was hovering uneasily next to Raven.

Clarke sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose pushing the upcoming headache back.

“Octavia on my left, Raven stay where you are. Miller, I’ll need you to hold him down. Jasper, let me.” She arranged his body so that he was still on his left side but his left leg laid straight while his right one was bend, kneecap resting on the table. His arms were gripping the opposite shoulder with the order to not let go.

Clarke took the knife again and sliced away more of the pants until she was sure nothing was going to get in her way. Octavia poured some seawater over the wound to cleanse the area at her order and Clarke took a deep breath to steady her heart. This was going to work.

It had to.

Bellamy came back holding a can. Stopping in front of Jasper, he helped him lift his head and made him drink. From Jasper’s wince Clarke immediately knew what was in the can – moonshine.

Alcohol was better than nothing especially since Clarke was afraid of knocking Jasper out – it would spare him the pain, yes, but it would also slow-down his heartbeat and with so much blood loss that was not something they wanted.

She waited for Jasper to gulp down the whole can before she started. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes glazy and Clarke smiled tightly at Bellamy for his fast thinking.

Bellamy let his palm rest on her back for a moment, anchoring and supporting her, and then he moved to hold Jasper’s legs while Miller focused on keeping Jasper’s upper body on the table.

“Scalpel.” Raven was fast to answer and Octavia disinfected the blade before Clarke could ask.

The pincers Clarke had were too big and slightly curved for the small bullet wound; she had to make more space. A quick glance assured her that Bellamy and Miller were ready.

She dragged the medical blade from the wound outwards and Jasper started shaking, whimpering as more blood pooled on the surface of his skin while Clarke pushed the scalpel deeper in. She saw the veins in Miller’s hands bulging from the effort of keeping Jasper mostly still but then Octavia was wiping the blood away and Clarke was back to focusing on her job.

Raven took the scalpel back and gave her the already disinfected pincers.

Clarke stilled her hand before plunging the pincers inside the wound – the whole thing reminded her all too much of Tris and what a failure her attempt to save her was.

Her only thought before holding the wound wide open and inserting the pincers was _Please, don’t let it end the same way._

-

Bellamy watched her wash the blood off from under her fingers and gave her a somewhat clean cloth to dab her hands dry.

“You need to rest.”

She nodded and went to rest her head on his shoulder. His hands went around her hips in a louse hug.

“I meant real rest, with a bed and some real sleep.”

Oh, that sounded so nice right now. Yet –

“Later. We need to figure out what to do about the attack.”

Bellamy kissed the top of her head – Clarke wrinkled her nose at that; who knew how awful she smelled – and let her lean on him for a while longer. One of his hands skimmed up her ribs and stopped bellow her collarbones. From the angle he had the marks were visible and Clarke fought back the urge to hide them from his gaze.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

She shifted around until her hair fell over the marks and sighed against his neck – she did a lot of this recently, sighing.

“Later.”

He let his hand fall down her back and gently rubbed the knobs of her spine.

“That’s a lot of laters.”

Clarke grumbled half-heartedly but he shushed her, lifter her head by her chin and kissed her, pouring all his angst and bone-crushing relief into the kiss. It was a little bit desperate and heated but at the same time achingly slow and the implications it held made Clarke’s head spin in a good way. She had missed this – the feeling of time stopping, of warmth and fluttering butterflies in her stomach, of heat and want and pleasure, of strength and protection; she had missed them, missed _him_.

It had been less than two days but fuck if it didn’t feel like an eternity. Apparently, the constant fear for her life had screwed up with her concept of time.

But fuck it.

She was here now.

Bellamy pulled back but she surged forward and crashed their teeth together in her haste to get back to kissing him. He nipped her lower lip as reprimand and then got back to stealing the breath from her lungs. It burned but every lick of his tongue felt so good and she would have gladly drowned in his embrace.

They shared one last chase kiss – nothing more than a brushing of lips – and they exited the water tent to go discuss the situation with the others.

War waited for no one.

The first level of the shuttle was once again renovated, meaning that they had moved Jasper to a cot near one of the walls and the table was now cleaned off the blood and on top of it rested a bended metal piece which they used for a map.

Raven had already drawn all their known borders, bunkers and important landmarks with a piece of coal and Miller had come up with tiny plastic soldiers to mark their camp; Octavia was pretty engrossed with one.

After checking on Jasper – his temperature was little high but his stitches seemed fine – Clarke joined Bellamy and pushed one of the soldiers closer to the centre of the map.

“So,” Bellamy rolled his shoulders and put his rifle down. “What do we know?”

All eyes turned to Clarke and she shrugged under their scrutiny, knowing how much that didn’t help.

“Not much. Anya and Tristan are going to attack soon, probably tonight. I have no idea what’s the number of their people but it’s safe to assume it will be more than the group we stopped at the bridge.”

Raven looked up from the improvised map. “Tristan?”

“He came when Anya caught me the second time. He’s...higher ranked than Anya; she listens to him even when she doesn’t agree with him. That’s all I know.”

“There goes our hope that we have to overthrow only Anya. “ Miller rubbed his face and took off his beanie to scratch the back of his head.

Clarke liked her cracked lips and took one of the toy soldiers in her hand. “If it was only Anya maybe we could have tried to negotiate out of this mess but Tristan,” she rolled her still injured shoulder and her shirt dragged across the burn marks on her collarbone. “He’s pretty set on seeing us dead. And he talked about a commander or something; I guess it’s safe to presume that their chain of command goes higher up than we thought.”

Octavia reached for the coal and drew another landmark. “We suspected something like that so it’s not a surprise, really. Do you think we can get to this commander and ask for parley?”

Raven snickered and shot Octavia a mean smile. “Really, parley? After all they’ve done?” The mechanic turned to face Bellamy and Clarke. “I say let them come. We found tons of hydrazine sitting right under our feet.” She waved her hand towards the still open panel. “I have enough gunpowder to make as many bombs as you would like and then some.”

Miller nodded in agreement and Octavia bristled at being so easily overlooked.

“Say we kill them, we kill them all,” Clarke put the soldier back on the map. “And then what?” She pushed few of the plastic figures down. “We’ll be out of hydrazine, out of gunpowder, bone-weary but blind from the won battle, thinking we’re untouchable. And then this commander comes with even more Grounders and _then_ what?” She smudged the lines of their camp and the coal left black steaks on her fingers. “More killings, more death until we’re no more.”

“We don’t know that.” Raven insisted but she knew she was fighting a losing battle.

“We don’t.” Clarke put the soldiers back in order. “That’s why we have to play this smart, to think three steps ahead. The Grounders breathe war, their blood sings for it. We just have to show them that we might not have their brawl but we can surely outsmart them.”

“How?” Bellamy leaned over the map, arms braced on the table.

Clarke looked at their grim faces and discarded few plans before voicing her thoughts. “You said Monty might be able to help us; we’ll use that.” She traced one black finger in an arc around their camp. “We make a trap and lure them in while we make a run for it.”

“And go where?”

Clarke took no offence at Miller’s nearly vehement criticism.

“From what you told me, Monty is living in some kind of a bunker, like the one where we found the rifles.” She looked at Bellamy and he nodded in agreement; he had conveyed the information Monty had been supplying him with for the past two days while she had been stitching Jasper’s wound. “We head there for now; we’ll regroup, rest, see if the bunker can host us all and if the others will be of any use to us.”

Octavia eyes met hers over the table. “We can’t hide forever.”

“We won’t, we’ll move farther east.”

The younger Blake’s eyes lit up. “You think the East tribe will welcome us?”

Before Clarke could answer, Miller butted in. “Why not try for Mount Weather? The bunker there should have everything we need if we’re to believe the Chancellor’s words.”

“Because we’ll have to cross more of the Grounders’ territory and we don’t know the exact position of the bunker. Plus, it’s occupied.”

“What?” Raven’s voice held a tired but still formidable edge.

“I overheard Anya and Tristan talking about it; there are people there, Anya called them Mountain Men, and the Grounders are fighting them.”

“Lincoln.” Octavia gasped and hurried to explain when they looked at her. “After the bomb at the bridge I talked to Lincoln and he said we had angered the mountain people and we should get away from here. I thought he was talking about another Grounder tribe.”

“Wonderful.” Miller deadpanned. “One party is after our heads, one is angry at us, and the one we’re heading towards might be hostile.”

Bellamy glared at him but refrained from saying anything. “How do we do this?”

“Am I the only one who thinks this is a stupid-ass idea?”

Fuck but Raven sometimes pushed too hard.

“We need to make it until the winter; the Grounders won’t bother with us then. And if we put enough distance between us they might give up their pursuit.”

“We need to make a stand.”

“ _With what_?” Clarke finally exploded and her palms slapped the map, jostling the figures. “Our resources are limited, our numbers are only eighty-five – one third of the kids outside these walls are just hitting puberty, the second third is scared shitless, and the rest are still trying to adjust to holding a gun.”

The silence was deafening and her palms were throbbing but Clarke didn’t back down until Raven averted her eyes and took a noisy breath.

“What do you want me to do?” She said at last.

The headache came back with a vengeance and Clarke’s eyelids were pulsing with it but she ignored it for the time being.

“Drain all the hydrazine you can and spill it here.” She pointed to the arc she had drawn in front of the camp earlier. “We’ll lit it up and cut their fastest route to us.”

Raven tossed it over in her head. “The forest will catch the fire.”

Clarke’s smile lacked any trace of humour. “The bigger the better.”

“Are you sure you don’t want bombs?” Raven asked sceptically.

Tris’ body flashed in front of Clarke’s eyes. “No, our aim is to stall them, not kill them. The more we kill of them, the harder they’ll come after us.”

“I’ll make you something to light the hydrazine with from a distance then; and bullets, a _lot_ of bullets.”

“The Grounders won’t attack an empty camp; they’ll see that we’ve run and come right after us.” Octavia frowned and looked from her brother to Clarke and then back again.

“I’m staying.” Clarke’s voice booked no arguments. “I’ll need few more volunteers to make it seem like we’re awaiting them and ready to fight.”

Bellamy finally straightened from his half-slouched form over the map and scowled at her. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m staying and you’re leaving with the first group.”

She almost rolled her eyes at his protectiveness, _almost_. “Tristan won’t miss the opportunity to try and kill me and he’ll lead the rest of the Grounders here. The others will need all the time we can provide them.”

He frowned even harder when Octavia took the chance to volunteer to stay.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Bell,” she said when he tried to sway her. “Somebody has to have your back while you’re busy making mooneyes at Clarke.”

The familiar banter broke the gloomy atmosphere and Raven smiled a toothy grin.

“I’m leaving the love birds to kiss and make up; I have a job to get done. You know where to find me if you need me.” With that the mechanic left the dropship, Octavia running after her, snickering along the way.

Bellamy gave Miller a warning look and the guy kept his comments tucked behind his knowing smirk.

“Miller, start telling people to gather their things and evacuate. We’ll need few more volunteers to stay behind and make somebody go help Raven, she’ll need it.” Miller sobered at Bellamy’s order and left the shuttle in a hurry.

“Now what?” Clarke asked, gaze fixed on the map.

Gosh, this was a horrible plan.

“Now, I call Monty to ask him to gather some people and come and meet the first group that will head towards them, and you,” He moved within an arm’s reach and caressed her check with the back of his hand, knuckles brushing gently the line of her jaw. “You’ll go wash up and rest until it’s time.”

She didn’t argue that – not that she had the strength for it – and grabbed his hand to kiss the centre of his palm, smiling when he cupped her face between his hands and kissed her nose.

“Go.”

Clarke pushed her fingers through his hair and tugged his down for a short kiss.

Whatever was about to happen, Bellamy was here with her.

-

Her hair was still damp from her improvised shower when Bellamy entered his – _theirs_ – tent and took off his jacket and pants and kicked off his shoes to come and join her under the blankets.

He wasted no time in getting his arms around her, uncaring about her hair but being careful not to push against her slowly healing shoulder or her newly acquired bruises. When he had her where he wanted her – his legs tangled with hers, her body tucked against his – he squeezed her waist twice before exhaling loudly and slowly relaxing against her back.

Bellamy didn’t ask but when he kissed the back of her neck and traced fingers around her burn marks, Clarke clenched his hand and told him everything that had happened in a hushed but even tone.

She told him about Anya and Tris and how Finn’s life depended on her success; her failure, the Grounder that held her back as Finn was dragged away, the coldness of the scalpel in her hand and the panicked look in the Grounder’s eyes when she had slit his throat and forced his mouth shut; her mad run, the horses, the sound of chain links in the night, the smell of burnt flesh and the feel of Tristan’s scorching blade; Lincoln’s rescue, the happiness and bone-crushing relief of seeing Finn alive, the endless tunnels and the grotesque Reapers; her journey back here alone, her impossible luck at the river, the fucking constant fear that had never left her until she had stumbled upon Denise and Kal. _Everything_.

And Bellamy listened, his rising and falling chest a steady presence of courage that helped her go forward even as she stumbled over her words, tired and sad and so sick of it all. He listened and never interrupted and when she was done he turned her around and kissed the three burn marks, his lips barely a ghost against her skin.

“Sleep.” He said and Clarke did.

She slept through Monty’s report and Miller’s three briefings, she slept through Bellamy’s orders to Harper and Kal, and she slept through the sounds of the group leaving, led by Miller and Fox and carrying Jasper towards the appointed rendezvous point.

She slept soundly in Bellamy’s arms while he watched over her.

Until the sky darkened and the drums sounded and then she was awake before he could so much as nudge her gently.

The Grounders had come.

Her sleep was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, from this chapter on, the story will be going in a direction that the end of season 1 didn't bring us to. I've had the major points of this story all planned out in a notebook months before season 2 started and as such a lot of the things will be quite different from what we've seen so far in season 2 (tho I'll still add things if I feel like they fit it, i.e. Trigedasleng).
> 
> It's good to be back.
> 
> \- M.

**Author's Note:**

> \- M.


End file.
